


And I can't find my way home

by under_a_grey_cloud



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Castiel's Grace, Castiel's Loss of Grace, Demon Dean, Demon Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Castiel, Future Dean Winchester, Lola Winchester, Love/Hate, M/M, Season/Series 01 through Season/Series 09 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:27:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 51,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1893906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_a_grey_cloud/pseuds/under_a_grey_cloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would happen if Dean were to open his black demon eyes and see Castiel as well as Crowley?<br/>Can Castiel restore Dean to human?<br/>Can an angel love a demon?<br/>Can a demon love an angel?<br/>What would happen if Dean were to open his black demon eyes and see Castiel as well as Crowley?<br/>Can Castiel restore Dean to human?<br/>Can an angel love a demon?<br/>Can a demon love an angel?<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And I can't find my way home

**Author's Note:**

> I own no rights to any of the characters in Supernatural, nor anything else based on SuperNatural.  
> Also I own no rights to any of the songs at the beginning of each chapter.

**And I ain't done nothing wrong lord  
** **Still I can't find my way home**

**\- Steve Winwood**

 

Dean lay on the bed, a pleasing sound filling his ears. He was tired. So tired. He tried to think of a time he'd been this tired before. He couldn't. Not that he couldn't think of anytime he'd felt so tired. He couldn't think at all. He enjoyed the melodic, low-pitched sound that was his everything.

Then he made out words, a few words. He remembered a name. Crowley, who he now recognized had been speaking to him.

"Open your eyes, Dean. Open your eyes."

But he liked the dark. He knew, the way you know in dreams, that something very very bad would happen if he opened his eyes. Yet the more Crowley repeated his demand, the harder Dean found it to fight back. A curious, slightly evil thought occurred to him. And, once thought, it could not be unthought, _Why not?_ he asked himself. _Why not open my eyes? It couldn't be any worse than being dead, could it?_ A low quiet voice in the back of his head, familiar enough to recognize but too hard to name, whispered "Yes. It can be worse. Much worse. Don't do it, Dean. Sometimes, though it breaks my heart to tell you, it's better to be dead. Don't give in, Dean. Don't open your-"

Eyes. Dean's eyes popped wide open. Something was different, different from how his vision had always worked. Colors were brighter though less focused, and a second vision seemed to show what went on behind the colors. Everything was brand new and slightly disturbing. The more he focused, the more everything seemed to be moving around, as if a strong wind were blowing in his eyes.

"That's it," said a voice he now recognized as Crowley. "You're my pet now, darling, and we are going to have such fun. You wouldn't believe me if I told you.I can barely decide what we're going to do first. The possibilities are endless…" 

Dean tried to answer but his voice came out as a growl.

"Don't strain yourself, love. You've been dead for," Crawley stopped and consulted his watch "almost 45 minutes. This is your second chance. Your chance to be reborn, into a new life. Take it slow, darling. You have all the time in the world."

Something primal jerked Dean's head and throat, the same voice he'd heard earlier, "No! Dean, listen to me. This is very important. Close your eyes and let yourself slip back to how you were before Crowley spoke to you."

Dean was so tired, it was very tempting to keep his eyes closed and give in to that voice. Familiar, but still unnamed. Something deep down in that voice resonated with him. However, Crowley was right here and now. Offering what Dean's body had craved since he'd killed Abaddon. Release.

"That's right, love. You can kill as often as you like. The mark is part of you, and now that you've made your first kill with the first blade, the rest will follow," Crowely chuckled. "You can be my pet hitman, love. It gets wearing, sending bodies smashing into walls, catching them unaware with the sword in the back. I wouldn't mind a break. Would you like that, Dean? To kill whomever I want you to kill? To kill whomever _you_ want to kill?"

Yes, it would be so good to give into that urge, to scratch that monstrous itch that had seemed to take charge since he slew Abaddon. Kill. Yes. Listen to the mark, nevermind Crowley. Crowley was beneath him now. He, Dean Winchester, was the only man in Heaven, Earth and Hell to possess the mark of Cain. The mark that dated almost back to the beginning of time. The mark and the first blade were created for killing. It now fell to him to do the work they demanded. The blade slipped into his lap, begging to be fulfilled.

Yet something was holding him back. He opened his eyes again and focused clearly for the first time since he'd died. A man in a trenchcoat was staring down at him. Staring with piercing blue eyes that held all the love the world had ever known. Castiel. Dean knew this man. He was an angel, an angel of the Lord, as he had first introduced himself, what seemed like lifetimes ago.

"What did you do to him?!" Castiel growled at Crowley, although it was perfectly obvious what he had done. "You stole a graceful death and replaced it with this, this…" his voice trailed off as he looked at Dean. "This abomination."

"And here I thought you'd be pleased at my saving your bestie's life," replied Crowley, with his usual sardonic smile.

Castiel ignored Crowley and stared at Dean's entirely black eyes. Suddenly he was at the other end of the room, his back against the wall, his feet dangling a meter or two above the floor.

"Call it off, Crowley.  He can't possibly have so much power, not right after dying. Not right after he's been turned into" He spit the next words at Crowley "a demon. Let me go."

"By all means," Crowley replied, unceremoniously dropping Castiel in a pile on the floor. The angel stood with dignity and approached Dean, who was now slouching in bed after having tried and failed to sit up. Castiel placed two fingers on Dean's forehead, then shook his own head in frustration. He grabbed Dean's head and pulled it toward him, forcing Dean to open his mouth as he pressed his open lips to Dean’s in a futile attempt to transfer the little bit of his grace that remained. He let Dean’s head drop and sat on the bed, hands holding his own head.

Castiel was paralyzed by indecision, telling himself this may well be the last and only time he could show his feelings for Dean. But Dean was a demon now; surely his love would be denied. _Screw propriety and modesty. And trepidation_.  Once again, he put his hands on either side of Dean's head. He slowly moved Dean's face toward his own. He kissed his mouth gently, more gently than Dean had ever been kissed before. Castiel slowly explored his mouth with his tongue, as if he were committing every detail to memory.

Suddenly he felt Dean's tongue probe his own, not the act of a lover but violent, cruel. Dean bit his tongue, at first playfully and then hard, drawing blood. His green eyes turned to demon black again as he pushed Castiel away and spit in his face.

"What makes you think I _want_ you to save me, even if you could?” Dean growled. “You're almost out of grace, Cass. Stolen grace. You're going to die soon. I can feel it. Maybe if you'd had the balls to kiss me before I died," He was interrupted by the angel's coughing fit. Castiel’s grace was running on fumes, and it was beginning to affect his heath. His cough became deep and rattled, and a trail of blood fell from the corner of his mouth to his chin. After a few minutes he pulled himself together. Tears ran down his cheeks, though it was impossible to tell if they were from coughing strenuously, or if they were genuine tears.

"I need to find my grace," Castiel told Crowley, who had been watching with rapt attention. Castiel suffered another small coughing fit, then continued. "But I'll be back," he said, turning to look at Dean and trying to suppress a cough. "I'm not giving up on you," he said, forcing Dean to make eye contact. Even with his terrible demon eyes, he was beautiful. "Never." Castiel coughed one more time, then disappeared.

"Seems we might have the makings of a threesome," Crowley said, grinning at Dean. Dean did not grin back. His head was spinning, and it was all he could do to lie back in bed without fainting.

"We'll see about that," Dean said in a scratchy voice, as if it had been he who'd been coughing. The effort exhausted him entirely. He closed his eyes and fell into the state that for demons passes as sleep.


	2. Amazing Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel returns to the ruins of Heaven's jail, where he finds a broken Metatron. He's become a hermit of sorts, and is afraid of Castiel and wants to be left alone.
> 
> Metatron eventually tells Castiel where to find his grace. But he rarely tells the simple truth.
> 
> Will Castiel find his grace? Will it be enough to restore him?

  


**Through many dangers, toils and snares**  
 **I have already come;**  
 **'Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far**  
 **and Grace will lead me home.**  
 **\- John Newton**

 

Castiel collapsed in pain, nearly fainting from the work of having disappeared from Crowley and Dean. Without his wings, it required a great effort to move instantaneously. To do that while running on grace fumes was nearly impossible. Castiel knew why he was so weak but he couldn’t explain the stabbing pain in has back.

As he slowly regained his ability to think straight, Castiel took in his surroundings. First, he noticed was that he was sitting on the floor, leaning back against something sharp. Leaning forward accomplished nothing; whatever was stabbing him was still attached. He pulled the culprit out of his back and the pain stopped. Castiel immediately felt much more clear-headed, almost like himself again. He turned around to see what had been digging into his back. It appeared to be thick iron arrow attached to the wall. The tip was covered in blood; blood tinged with a strange purple color. Castiel shook his head at his own stupidity, but the motion made him dizzy and nauseated. He sat for a few moments more, gathering his strength, then slowly stood up. He looked like a toddler standing up for the first time, but unlike a toddler’s pride, Castiel was simply flooded with relief.

After he’d accomplished this monumental task, both Castiel’s body and mind began to rev up. He wouldn’t have noticed even if he’d had looked in a mirror, but despite all he’d been through, he was still strikingly beautiful. Even with another angel’s grace, and not very much at that, he projected gracefulness. And stubbornness. Castiel looked around in an effort to determine where he was. Huge broken boulders of concrete with iron spikes scattered around the floor looked like made him think maybe he was in a new corner of Hell. He almost laughed as he realized he couldn’t have been farther from the truth. He was standing in the wreckage of Heaven’s jail. Again. He might well be standing in the same cell he’d been thrown into earlier that day. The cell, like the rest of the jail, that now looked as if it had been the target of a tornado. The few occupants of Heaven’s jail had made their way out through the rubble. A single prisoner remained in the far corner of what had been his cell. His knees were drawn up to his chin, which in turn rested on his knees. He looked beyond contrition, almost beyond conscious comprehension. It took Castiel a few moments to recognize him, his face hidden by his hooded jacket, rocking himself like a severely autistic child. Metatron? Castiel had a hard time reconciling this sole prisoner who remained, with his memory of the angel who hid his ambition well with his self-patronizing humor and his almost clown-like attitude.

Castiel actually laughed aloud when realized he had materialized in the one place in all of Heaven, Earth, and Hell that he needed to be. He was determined to find his grace. Only his own grace would spontaneously regenerate; his borrowed grace threatened to run out at any moment, which would kill him. Castiel realized that for once, Metatron’s lust for power, masquerading as an annoying, pathetic nerd, might be the only way to retrieve what was left of his grace. Metatron had stolen it; he might well be the key to reclaim it.

Carefully, slowly, quietly, Castiel walked through the powerful ruins toward Metatron. He was very afraid of losing his last chance to recover his grace and stay alive. He crouched down a comfortable distance next to the piteous being beside him, and very, very softly whispered “Metatron?” who jumped up in a panic when he heard Castiel’s voice. He could have tap danced and yodeled; there had obviously been no need for stealth.

“What? What?!” shouted Metatron, as he cowered back into the corner of his cell. He was clearly accustomed to being alone.

Castiel whispered reassuringly “It’s all right. It’s just me. Castiel. I’m not here to harm you.”

“No, you already did that when you went behind my back and secretly broadcasted me saying how thrilled humans would be to climb out of their filth and excrement and be delivered to Heaven.”

Castiel stood still, silently staring at Metatron.

“What? What do you want already? Spit it out. You’re making me nervous.”

“My grace,” Castiel responded in what Metatron could have heard as just the slightest touch of menace.

“I don’t have it,” Metatron answered. A bit of his nebbish bluster was gone. “I used it for the spell.”

“My grace,” Castiel repeated. “Did you use all of it for the spell?”

“Of course not,” Metatron answered automatically. “Do you think I’m stupid? Of course I kept some, just in case.”

“Where?”

Castiel’s voice was so quietly threatening that Metatron immediately told the truth so he could left alone again. “It’s in a small leather briefcase next to my typewriter in my office” Metatron whined. Castiel contained his excitement as he continued to stare, not even trying to control his anger and hope. “It’s there. I promise. Vials of it. Take it. Take it all. Just go.”

Now that he had the information he needed, Castiel was able to see Metatron as he really was, a broken angel, desperately in need of healing. He squatted on the ground and looked down a bit so he could look the short angel in the eyes.

“Why are you doing this, brother? You’re free. All of Heaven and Earth is open to you. Why are you doing penance still? There’s no need.” “Penance? You think I’m doing penance? I should be so lucky. I’m terrified. I don’t know would happen to me if anyone noticed that I wasn’t here in prison, but I’m betting it’s not good. It’s not so bad here. Peace and quiet and being left alone. Usually,” he finished with a pout, his odd brand of bravado beginning to return. Castiel shook his head and reached out with two fingers to touch Metatron’s forehead in an effort to heal him. Nothing happened. “You’d better hurry up and take back your own grace while you’re still alive to do it.”

Castiel knew this was true. He stumbled as he tried to stand up and fell flat on his face, spikes cutting long gashes in his flesh. For the first time in his very long life he felt fear. What if Metatron is lying? He got up very carefully, wondered what would happen to him if he tried to materialize into Metatron’s office, and decided he didn’t care. He was dying anyhow. He closed his eyes in concentration and disappeared.

***

He arrived in a cluttered room that smelled of Metatron. Books and ripped cardigans and crumpled paper were strewn about in layers everywhere. Castiel was oblivious to them. Somehow he had managed to faint mid-transition. This was not good. He wondered what would happen if he died while teleporting, but before he could complete the thought, he began graying out and his knees began to weaken. “No!” he shouted aloud. He refused to die so close to what he needed. Indeed, he found a leather briefcase next to Metatron’s old manual typewriter. He fumbled the case open, and found four large vials filled with blue fluid. His grace. He felt it even in a glass tube. It wouldn’t have been shining for anyone else. He took a vial, hands shaking, desperately afraid he was going to drop the glass vial and lose its contents. His greying out was starting to move to that strange stage where nothing seems real and everything seems to be very far away, if it exists at all. He quickly sat down on the floor, pushed out one drop of fluid to prevent an air embolism, and stabbed his shoulder with the needle of the huge vial.

The relief was instantaneous. The moment the first drop of grace passed from the needle into his body, he felt like himself again. He’d forgotten how it had felt to be himself. He pushed every drop of blue liquid from the first vial into his vein, then realized it didn’t matter. It was his own grace. It would regenerate, automatically monitor its level and stay full. Castiel didn’t really need to think about this; his body took care of it automatically. Still, he smiled beatifically as he slowly and carefully emptied two more of the vials into his veins. He put the last full vial in his pocket, just in case. If angels slept he would have been asleep within seconds. Instead he fell into the angel equivalent of sleep. He closed his eyes and consciously relaxed his body and breathing until he was surrounded by a white, healing glow. He sighed deeply, and reveled in the light as he lost track of himself and time. Then he reveled some more. For the first time in a very long time, he felt happy. He liked being happy. His thoughts wandered to Dean and Crowely, and he pushed them away as if the two of them were standing next to him. He needed to be happy for a little while longer. He emptied his mind of unwanted thoughts, and returned to the white light.

***

Suddenly Castiel was startled out of his meditation by a series of loud sounds. He tried to shut them out and return to the healing white light, but the sounds were persistent. He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and sat up on the floor. He realized this was a rather undignified position for a supposed Commander of Heaven, so he stood up and leaned against Metatron’s desk.

The sounds resolved into speech, which slowly resolved into sentences. Directed at Castiel. In a particularly loud and yet also fawning manner. Hannah. Had to be. Castiel turned toward the voice and indeed Hannah was speaking to him, although he felt as if he’d tuned into the middle of a conversation.

“Hello, Hannah,” Castiel said in a polite but slightly defeated tone of voice. Once Hannah hit her stride, it was very difficult to get a word in edgewise. And she had been talking for some time now.

“Oh, thank God,” Hannah answered.

Castiel shook his head and tried to return completely to the present. It had been so long since he’d had the time to meditate. He resented Hannah’s interruption, but now that he’d committed himself to being conscious, it would be very rude to ignore her.

“We’d thought you’d passed out, maybe your borrowed grace ran out and you died,” Hannah said.

“I’m not dead,” Castiel responded.

“Yes, I can see that,” Hannah replied. Angels were not reknown for their sense of humor, but Castiel was known for being particularly literal. “I’m glad it was me who found you here. Really, Castiel, meditating on the floor of a prisoner’s office hardly befits the role of Commander.”

Hannah had raised so many issues, Castiel wasn’t sure where to start. “Metatron’s not a prisoner. He can’t be, now that the jail has fallen to pieces and there are no walls. Metatron voluntarily chooses to remain in the physical remnants of what used to be his cell.”

“Excuse me, Commander,” Hannah cut in. “It’s just that now that you’re in charge of Heaven, it might be best to begin acting a bit more appropriately to your station. Sir.”

“Hannah, I’m not a commander and I’m not a sir. Please don’t refer to me as either. It’s embarrassing.” Castiel ran his hands through his hair and put on his trench coat, which he’d rolled into makeshift pillow.

“I don’t mean to contradict you, si- uh. Castiel, but now that Metatron has apparently abdicated any desire to dispute your role as commander, you are in fact Commander, s-, uh, Commander.”

“That’s not a title I’m comfortable with,” said Castiel.

“But you’ve earned it, and Heaven is yours to rebuild and rule,” Hannah responded, a mixture of revelry and jealousy in her voice. Castiel began to pace the room and stretch, in an effort to relax his uncomfortable muscles. It felt wonderful. “Castiel!” Hannah shouted, forgetting his title in her excitement. “Your wings!”

“Yes, I lost them in the fall. ”Castiel replied.

“ I know, many of us suffered the same fate. But yours have grown back!”

“Really?” Castiel asked. “I didn’t know that was possible.” He found a mirror, extended his wings, and was overwhelmed by a feeling of joy and gratitude. He had missed his wings. He supposed they might have regenerated from injecting so much of my own grace so quickly. He looked at himself in the mirror, extended his wings, and looked at his reflection. A large smile spread over his face as he saw the physical proof of his wings.

“Yet another sign,” Hannah said, “that you are our commander.”

***

Castiel sighed. “Hannah, I don’t think that possession of wings qualifies me to lead Heaven. In fact, I have some unfinished business to take care of, which might prove to be rather time-consuming. “Would you consider,” Castiel caught himself and quietly signed again. “I would like you to serve as Commander of Heaven in my absence.”

Hannah blushed. “Of course, sir. I would be delighted to take on the role of temporary commander during your absence. Are there any changes you’d like me to start on? Physical rebuilding, change of personnel?”

“No, that’s fine,” answered Castiel vaguely. “Do whatever you think is best. And, uh, thank you.”

“You’re most welcome,” said a beaming Hannah as she left to begin her new duties.

Time consuming details, Castiel thought to himself. Even more time consuming if he wasn’t sure how to begin. He recalled transporting from Crowley to Metatron, while he was running low on another angel’s grace. It should be much easier to travel now that he was full of his own grace and had his wings back. He sighed, and almost wished he were graceless and wingless again, preventing him from doing what he needed to do. He yearned for a slow walk through his favorite spots in Heaven. Especially the garden half-painted by the autistic boy himself. There was a particular ocean he also loved to visit; he could smell the salt water and feel the breeze, the cold water on his toes. Later, he thought. He’d have infinite time to explore Heaven as much as he liked. He trusted Hannah to deal with the new truce, to keep the angel on angel fighting under control, should it resume.

Castiel had run out of excuses. It was time to deal with the most pressing problem, though he had no way of knowing if his attempts would work. Yet he had to try. He needed Dean Winchester in his life, demon or human. He fully intended to convert Dean into the latter form, although he wasn’t clear yet exactly how he would do that.

Castiel realized that Dean had always summoned him; never the other way around. Castiel had never needed to summon anyone in Heaven; angels had a shared consciousness that led them naturally to each other when needed. I wonder how this works, he thought. He remembered Crowley’s decadent rooms and Dean with those horrible black demon eyes. He realized that part of his motivation was jealousy. This was a very uncomfortable thought, which he pushed way back in his brain, only to have it jump back like a rubber band to the forefront of his thoughts.

He shoved all these thoughts away, in random, jumbled piles, as he thought about how to summon Dean. Then he realized he actually wanted to summon himself to Dean, so he could deal with Crowley as well. He recalled his memory of Crowley’s rooms; the King of Hell looking well sated and well-controlled, at which point he realized again that the Dean he would meet was not the Dean he knew.

The rush of memories was too much for Castiel to control. Without thinking about it, he found himself far from Heaven, staring first at Crowely’s devious face, and then, though he didn’t want to see them ever again, he turned his head and saw Dean’s malignant black eyes. It was too much. Castiel found himself back in his own quarters. He couldn't face those eyes yet. He wasn't certain he could ever find the strength to look into Dean's demon eyes.


	3. Everybody Knows this is Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Dean kill a child?
> 
> What does it feel like to kill?
> 
> What does it feel like to be carressed by a demon?
> 
> Lots of firsts for Dean as a demon in this chapter

  
**Everybody seems to wonder**  
 **What it's like down here**  
 **I gotta get away**  
 **From this day-to-day**  
 **Running around,**  
 **Everybody knows this is nowhere.**  
 **\- Neil Young**

  


Dean felt a nauseating sensation in his stomach. Just when he thought he might survive without puking, he opened his eyes and immediately threw up. Crowley stood looking at him, grinning like the Cheshire Cat who’d just caught a puking demon mouse.

“Wha—“ said Dean, and started coughing from having thrown up. He cleared his throat. “And you brought me here -- why?”

They were on the outskirts of a children’s park, filled with noisy kids and benches of bored-looking adults. Dean noticed that whenever he attempted to move toward the park, he felt as if he were blocked by an invisible vomit-inducing wall. He could no more walk through that wall than he could walk through a wall in his old apartment. _My old apartment_ , Dean thought. Already it seemed as if it belonged to someone else’s life. He wasn’t sure what he thought about that.

He was definitely sure what he thought about Crowley. “What the fuck, Crowley? What's with the wall?"

"The wall is all in your mind, pet. More specifically, your subconscious. It's also for your protection. For making sure you don't do anything stupid, like try to walk through a vomit-inducing wall."

"Thanks," Dean spat. “What’s up with your calling me pet all of a sudden?”

“Obviously I call you pet because you’re my pet. My pet demon. You’re not in a cage, love. You’re free to go any time. I just thought you might find the tutelage of the King of Hell useful.”

“The tutl what now?” asked Dean.

Crowley sighed. “Tutelage. Teaching. Learning. But far be it from me to hold you against your will. Take a look around you. Leave if you want to.”

 _Cowley could be useful if I want to stop butting my head against puke walls,_ Dean thought. He looked around.

"This is a playground, for Christsake. For kids. You expect me to kill a kid? Can’t we work our way up to this, maybe starting with someone a little bit older?” Dean wholeheartedly believed his words, yet in his pocket, the first blade was starting to warm up and the Mark was beginning to itch.

“No dice, honey. It’s binary. How’s that mark feeling? Little bit itchy? And that blade is dangerously close to burning off your cajones. We can’t let that happen. I have plans for those cajones.”

Suddenly the first blade was in Crowley’s hand. Dean immediately folded over and started retching blood. The volume of blood increased exponentially in a very short time. _He does have a point,_ Dean conceded. _Maybe I should stay with him for a little while, just till I learn the ropes. And stop vomiting blood._

“So. Would you rather leave now, or learn from the King of Hell himself? Your call. Catch.”

Crowley tossed the blade back to Dean, who automatically stuck it back in his pocket. His face contorted with pain, as if the blade were a branding iron. Dean pulled the blade out of his pocket. It cooled off slightly when it wasn’t pressed against his skin. He stuck it in the space between his leather boot and his jeans. Real jeans, thick jeans, not the leggings with buttons some girls wear. The kind that really showed off their asses...

Dean realized Crowley had been talking to him while his mind had wandered. Seemingly out of the blue, Crowley asked if Dean had ever gone to the movies.

“The movies?"

Crowley shook his head. "The movies. Films. Big dark slanted rooms with comfy chairs and sticky floors and a screen that displays, if you're lucky, something worth watching."

"Yeah, of course. Can’t demons watch movies?”

“Focus, pet,’ said Crowley. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“I answered you,” said Dean, not aware that he was sounding like a petulant kid himself. “I love the movies. I’ve seen plenty of movies. Especially old westerns.”

Crowley snickered.

“What? They’re good,” Dean responded defensively.

“Have you ever gone to the movies and sat behind a kid who cried non-stop?”

“Yeah. It drives me crazy. Sometimes I want to strangle the little bastards. I pay good money to see a movie, I don’t want some snotty nose kid ruining it for me. I’m just sayin.”

“That’s the spirit,” Crowley grinned. “Me, I’d rather watch people than movies. Far more interesting. I prefer killing the brats who insist on making noise at some ungodly hour when I’m trying to rest. Absolutely no manners at all.”

“Demons can say the word ‘ungodly’?”

“Dean, we’re demons. We can do whatever the hell we want.”

Dean looked uncomfortable. “Ok. Say I stay with you a while till I’ve learned the ropes. So I gank a whining little creep on the swing set. What’s to stop their mother from calling 911?”

Crowley sighed. “Have you been paying even a particle of attention to your life during the last few years?”

“What? Of course. I know angels can disappear any time they like. So it’s like that for demons, too?”

Crowley sighed dramatically. “If I’d known what a pain in the ass you can be, I might well have left you for dead. Though I could never leave you to die. You’re just too delicious, even if you are a bit slow.”

“Hey! Who you calling slow? Of course you know all about this stuff. I’ve only been a demon for a few hours. You’ve been a demon for what? Since the beginning of time? Gimme a break. I bet it took you a while to learn all this shit, too.” Dean’s eyes turned black with anger.

“Cut it out with the eyes. Dean. Now. That’s something people will remember. Careful is rule number one.”

Dean blinked his eyes back to their normal green. “Ok, so I’m careful. Still, what’s to stop the cops from arresting me?

“Dean, Dean, Dean. We’re going to be here all day at this rate. Follow me.” Crowley walked over to a large tree largely out of view of the playground. “Watch and learn.” Crowley disappeared almost before Dean could tell he’d been gone.

Dean was confused. “Right. I thought it was only angels who did that. Maybe they’re not so different from demons,”

Crowley’s disembodied voice said “Excellent. I knew there was more to you than meets the eye.”

“I don’t give a shit what meets my eye. Where the fuck are you?”

“Interesting question. Both ethereal and metaphorical.” He paused. “I don’t really know.”

Crowley appeared next to Dean “So, love, want to try it? Quite useful for quick escapes from, oh I don’t know, ganking a kid in the park, as you so elegantly put it. Just think of where you want to go.”

Dean thought about leaving the park, and disappeared. “Hey. Where am I? It’s weird here.”

”Actually, I have no idea,” Crowley replied. “Doesn’t matter. Just think happy thoughts.

“Think what, now?”

Crowley’s voice admonished “I gather you have seen Peter Pan. Isn’t that a requirement of your generation?”

“I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, man. “

Crowley sighed. "No appreciation of culture. Did you know Mary Poppins was the first drag queen? Or would that be king?' he mused. "You want to come back? Easy. Just think of me.”

“What if I don’t want to come back to you? What if I want to go somewhere else?”

“You’re breaking my heart, darling. We’ll get to that later. For now, for the love of god, empty your little mind and just think of me. Is that so hard?”

Dean suddenly appeared by Crowley.

“Don’t stare at me with your mouth open. It’s unbecoming. I think that’s enough training for now. I’m going back to my rooms. Care to accompany me?”

Crowley and Dean disappeared and found themselves back in Crowley’s opulent quarters.

“So when do I get the chance to kill someone?” Dean demanded,

Crowley responded “Right. I’m so sorry. I must say, my darling, you can be quite distracting. Did any of the little buggers appeal to you?”

Dean felt the blade burn through his boot. It was all he could do not to attack the mark of Cain, which itched like crazy. “I couldn’t care less. Just bring me someone to kill. Now.”

“Your wish is my command.” Crowley disappeared for a few minutes. He returned with a pimply teen-aged boy who had been climbing up the slides, scaring the little kids waiting on top. “Here you go. I even chose a park abuser to ease your amusing little conscience.”

Dean ignored the sound of Crowley’s voice. He was all predator now, all thoughts beyond the teenager forgotten. He grabbed the confused boy in an embrace, then turned him around and forced him up against the wall. Immediately, Dean took the blade out of his boot and shoved it through the teen’s back. Dean grinned from ear to ear as the boy slid down the wall, leaving a streak of blood, very clearly dead. _This is better than sex_. “Another,” Dean demanded.

“Maybe later. I’ve got to dispose of the body first. Learn to curb your appetite. You're not a five-year-old. It's unbecoming.” Crowley picked up the dead teenager and disappeared.

Dean became more and more agitated each minute Crowley was away from him. He almost sighed aloud with relief when Crowley returned.

“You’re back,” Dean nearly shouted. “Where were you? I was worried.” Killing was suddenly the last thing on his mind.

“Ah, so you’ve begun to appreciate the power of my company. I believe you even missed me. How sweet. As for where I’ve been, all in good time, my little pretty; all in good time.”

“The wicked witch of the west,” Dean said, smiling at his victory. “See? I’m not a total ig, ignor, fuck it, ignoranus.” He took a deep breath. “So no more killing, then?” he asked nervously.

“Not just now,” Crowley replied.

He sat on the bed and motioned for Dean to join him. Very slowly, driving Dean mad, Crowley kissed him almost chastely on the lips, then moved his hand down Dean’s chest, under his jeans and boxers, and began massaging Dean’s sex. Dean found it hard to breathe, catching a breath whenever he could. When Crowley stopped for a moment, Dean breathed “No, don’t. Please. Don’t stop.”

“Farthest thought from my mind.” Crowley smiled, as he gently undressed Dean until he was entirely naked, laying on his back on the bed. Crowley was good, as he let his hand travel slowly, with the lightest of touches, down Dean’s body. He smiled as he felt the extent of Dean’s arousal. He sat between Dean’s knees, slowly licking his way up, finally stroking Dean's balls and taking his cock into his mouth and sucking hard. Dean was too overwhelmed and exhausted to even think of Crowley’s needs. He lay back in ecstasy, unaware that his eyes were open and fully black, glistening with desire.

 


	4. Interlude - A Whiter Shade of Pale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well-sated from his kill, Dean escapes from his demon world into sleep.
> 
> But his dreams are disturbing, flitting from horror to joy to horror, as dreams do.
> 
> As Dean's life does.
> 
> What was happening?

**And so it was later  
 **When the miller told his tale  
 **That her face, at first just ghostly,  
 **Turned a whiter shade of pale**  
 **\- Gary Brooker, Keith Reid and Matthew Fisher, from Procol Harem********

  


Dean lay in bed, sweating and tossing in the grips of black demon dreams. Something was puzzling him. Something to do with Heaven, and angels. God! He thought. Where is God? Isn’t God supposed to be in Heaven? A chill ran through him. Except I don’t think I’m in Heaven. Where am I?

Short, disjointed thoughts began to flow through his head. He stood outside a doorway. He was small. Not much taller than the doorknob. He shivered as he remembered the yellow-eyed demon burning his mother on the ceiling. He was terrified, but his father grabbed him hard, thrust Baby Sammy at him, and shouted “Take good care of Sammy, now. He’s your brother. He needs you. Don’t let anything happen to him. Now Go. Go go go go go!”

He ran, grabbing Sammy to his chest, crying and confused.

Then he was back outside the bedroom doorway. What? I don’t remember this, he thought, as he remembered seeing his father cut his arm open, like the yellow-eyed demon, and drip blood into Baby Sammy’s mouth. “You were always my favorite”, his father said to Sam. He was? I thought I was his favorite.

Back on the street, he held Sammy tight as they watched their home burn. Where’s Mommy and Daddy? he thought, confused, crying as their home went up in unearthly flames.

Wait, Dean thought, his adult self again. I saw Dad come out of the gates of Hell, surrounded in white light, with one little tear running down his face as he shot upward with that white light. What was God doing in Hell? And why did he have just one tear? Was that for Sammy, his favorite? Dean sweated heavily and turned over in bed. Was John Winchester God?! No, that couldn’t be. That would make him and Sammy Jesus, and he was pretty sure that Jesus had been one person. But Dad said that Sam was always his favorite. He also said that the day may come when Dean had to kill Sam. Maybe Sammy was Jesus. What did that make him? And why?

Dean slipped into a lighter state of demon sleep, not relaxing, but not terrifying. Where am I? The thought ate away at him as he balled up his pillow and then pounded it back, all while asleep.

He opened his dream eyes, afraid of what he might see, and his face turned into a huge smile.

“Sam!!” he called out. “It’s you! What are you doing here?”

“C’mon, man,” Sam said to Dean, as he pulled his brother into a tight hug. “We thought we’d lost you.”

“We?” Dean asked, confused. He looked around and saw someone in a trenchcoat. A very familiar trenchcoat, worn by a very familiar angel, with a very familiar sad smile.

“Cas!!! Oh God, Cas. Man. I thought I was never going to see you again. What’s the word, Cas?”

“Judging by your reaction when I answered that it was a shortened version of my name, I guess I don’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Dean. “Com’ere.” He enveloped Castiel in a huge hug, which turned into a long, sweet kiss.

Cas pulled away and sighed quietly. “I was afraid I would never see you again, Dean Winchester.” He lay his forehead against Dean’s shoulder, and it began to rain. The sweetest, softest, most beautiful rain Dean had even felt. It smelled incredible, making Dean want to take off his clothes and just revel in the rain. But he was dry, and the sun was out. Only a small patch of his shoulder was wet. Hmm, he thought idly. So that’s what happens when angels cry.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, a little frantically.

Castiel shook his head with that same small sad smile.

“Hey bitch, cut it out!” shouted Sam. “All those times I had to listen to you in the car go on and on about Castiel, and now he’s here and you’re crying?”

I am? He wiped his face, which was covered with tears.

“Well this sucks, jerk,” he said to his brother.

“Bitch,” Sam retorted.

“I understand the jerk part”, Castiel said, “but I never did figure out why you two called each other bitch. Neither of you are dogs, and you’re both male. I’ve been studying, and if you were conceived out of wedlock, I think the word you’re looking for is baster.”

“Baster?” Dean managed to say when he and Sam had stopped laughing. “Basters are for cooking turkey. Why would Sam call me a baster?” He and Sam collapsed into little-girl like giggles.

“You mean bastard,” Dean said, after a few false tries that reverted to laughter.

“But you were born in wedlock, weren’t you?”

“Doesn’t matter. Bastard”, he said to Castiel, who looked adorably confused.

“Jerk,” Sam said to Dean, snorting with residual laughter.

“Bitch,” Dean replied.

“Uh, butch?” Castiel tentatively called Dean. Dean and Sam exploded again.

“I think you mean bitch,” Sam finally said. “A butch is an extremely tough lesbian.”

“Lesbian?” Cas asked, completely baffled. “This is very confusing. I have to find a Winchester to Angel dictionary.”

“You have to find a what now?” Dean asked, snot running down his face from laughing so hard. “Just come back here, will you?” Castiel didn’t move. “I love you, Dean,” he whispered so quietly Dean could hardly hear him. He closed the distance between them and held Cas very tight, just holding him there. Some kind of premonition prevented him from letting go.

Castiel began to fade, and lose substance. “Typical,” he said, ending up little more than a disembodied voice. “Just when I found a language I could understand.”

“Where’d he go?” Dean asked Sam, but Sam had also disappeared. “Where’s everyone going?” He felt like a little kid; he wanted to sit down on the ground and cry.

“None of that, my sweet” said an all too familiar voice as Crowley shook Dean awake. “What, were you dreaming of a funeral? Your face is covered with tears.” Crowley reached over to the bedside table and gave Dean a large handful of tissues. He began to wipe his face, but the tissues started to feel itchy. Dean took one off his face to look at, and it was completely covered with bugs. He tossed the entire handful on the floor.

“Now that is really nasty,” Dean said to Crowley.

“Oh, Dean, you haven’t the slightest idea what really nasty can be,” said Crowley, as he pushed Dean over and crawled into bed with him.

Dean began to feel really uneasy, scared, nearing terror, and woke himself up with a scream. A really masterful scream; his throat felt as if he’d been trying to make himself heard at a very loud concert. He was slightly afraid of what Crowley might think when he finally, really woke up.

Then it dawned on him.

He had finally, really woken up.

He was fully awake.

And he was alone.

He screamed again, but this time there were no bugs or anything else to frighten him. He just screamed and screamed and screamed.


	5. Interlude - Angel from Montgomery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean calls out to Castiel from his dream
> 
> Castiel is confused, but answers the call
> 
> How does an angel see a demon's dream'?

  
**Just give me one thing**  
 **That I can hold on to**  
 **To believe in this livin'**  
 **Is just a hard way to go**  
 **\- John Prine  
**

  


Castiel returned to his quarters and smiled ruefully. He was still holding onto Dean’s pillow. He felt as if he were riding a Tilt-A-Whirl, except each seat housed a different emotion. He tried to project the image of the ride onto a wall. He was able to do this easily, but identifying his emotions was impossible. The ride was spinning too fast. He smirked. The ride was an apt metaphor for his life of late. Too many emotions to keep track of, spinning wildly out of control.

Castiel thought a rest and a long meditation were definitely in order. He lay down on his bed and held Dean’s pillow to his face, inhaling the intoxicating odor. He didn’t smell demon; just Dean. Maybe that was because Dean had been so newly made a demon; maybe eventually the stink of demon would drip out of every pore. For now, Castiel held the pillow tightly over his face not only to smell Dean but to muffle his own tears. He couldn’t stop them falling any more than he could have stopped Metratron from stealing his grace.

Angels can hold their breath longer than humans, but they did need to breathe. When he couldn’t stand it any longer, Castiel moved Dean’s pillow to his chest and took several deep, cleansing breaths. Well, they were supposed to be cleansing. In this case all they had to offer was oxygen. Castiel folded his arms around the pillow, shut his eyes, and began the steps that would lead to deep meditation. He’d gotten about halfway there when he felt a ringing in his head. _Goddammit_ , he thought, immediately followed by the thought _Why did I say that? I never take the name of the Lord in vain._

The ringing persisted. It was Dean, although it sounded a bit weak, as if it came from Dean’s subconscious. He might not even be aware he was reaching out to Castiel. The feeling of being called was persistent, but it was as if a shadow Dean were calling him. How to respond to a shadow Dean? Castiel would have known immediately if Dean were dead, and he was very much alive. That left only one interpretation: Dean was calling for him in a dream. Strange to say, but after so many thousands of years, Castiel had yet to be called into a dream. The ringing intensified, and Castiel knew he had to respond, no matter what he might think about it. He pushed away all conscious thought, and allowed himself to answer the call.

He looked around and saw he was on the outskirts of a playground. Dean seemed to want to enter the park, because ho repeatedly try to walk into a wall that wasn’t there. _Humans are so strange. Their subconscious creates the oddest problems. Why doesn’t he just walk around the wall? Oh,_ he thought as he saw Crawley grinning. _Poor Dean. Doesn’t even get a break from that asshole while he’s asleep. What, again? What’s the matter with me? I’m starting to talk like Dean._ He wrote it off as being in Dean’s dream, but he knew it had started earlier, when his meditation had been interrupted by Deans ’call.

Castiel was bewildered by the environment from which Dean had called him. Everything seemed clear but transparent, including Dean himself. In fact, Dean was glowing slightly, probably because it was his dream. Dean was in the house in which he grew up. He looked to be about five. Castiel could hear Dean’s thoughts, but it struck him as rude to listen so he tuned them out. Still, he could smell Dean’s sickly and desperate fear. He watched as man, apparently Dean’s father, grabbed his son, poke him as if he never wanted to let go, then left. Dean looked about four, and Sam was just a baby.

Suddenly, with no warning, Castiel saw himself in Dean’s dream. Dean was his own age again. _This can’t be real_. Dean looked exactly as he looked in real life, though Castiel was beginning to question the concept of real life. When he was called somewhere by a waking person, Castiel felt like himself, and saw from within his own eyes. Seeing himself in Dean’s dream was disorienting. _I definitely watched_ _too much television when I was human_.

No one seemed surprised to see him. Castiel was pretty certain that since his current thoughts came from within his own head, if he spoke, the words would come out of the other Castiel’s mouth. Not something he wanted to do. He noticed Sam as soon as Dean saw him. He still didn’t think it was possible to change course of someone else’s dream, and he didn’t want to. It was fascinating watching himself as Dean saw him.

Castiel had no problem watching Dean hug Sam; he’s see them hug all the time. But he felt slightly nauseated when Dean hugged him. it was a hug and not a hug. Castiel could feel the touch but could hear neither Dean’s thought nor his .. He derived no comfort from the psychical touch, and was rather horrified to watch himself play out the dream without being able to change or feel anything. He watched himself kiss Dean but felt numb inside. When he’d been human he’d chipped a tooth, not yet accustomed to eating, and seen a dentist, who’d given him a shot of Lidocaine. This was a similar feeling. His mouth felt anaesthetized as he watched himself kiss Dean. Castiel was vaguely nauseated and even frightened by the sensation, yet he didn’t want it to end.

Fortunately he could feel himself beginning to prepare to return to Crowley’s home. He wasn’t fading yet, but he had the sense that he could. Like watching a subtitled movie, he saw himself become confused by how the brothers referred to each other. His attempt to join in was met with uproarious laughter. When Dean pulled him over again for another hug, Cas could feel the connection fading. With great concentration and effort, he was able to pull himself together enough to tell Dean that he loved him, Then he couldn’t fight it anymore and gave into the strong pull back into his world.

Dean’s dream wasn’t quite over yet. Castiel had just enough energy to feel Crowley’s presence. Castiel was not visible in this part of the dream. Dean began screaming and screaming, and Castiel’s last connection to Dean left him puzzled and upset as he silently screamed along with Dean.

Castiel was very glad he meditated instead of sleeping. Meditation was much more reliably comforting and refreshing.

“Knock knock” said a familiar voice.

“Hello Hannah. What’s up?” The question reminded him of saying something funny in the middle of Dean’s dream, but it was fading rapidly.

“Just making sure you’re ok,” said Hannah. “You going to be at the board of directors meeting tonight?”

 _The board of what??!!!_ flew through Castiel’s brain.

“We’d like you there to OK some changes we’ve come up with.”

Castiel shook his head, trying to make sense of what Hannah was saying. He despised this part of his new job as Commander. _How did I get myself into this mess? Something about Metatron? Gadreel?_ All he knew was that he had somehow become the ruler of Heaven again, even though his first try had ended so disastrously. Suddenly he smiled and said “I believe I’ve given that post to you for a while. Feel free to take my place as Commander at the meeting. I trust you to be an excellent replacement.“

“Excuse me, then, sir. I’ll need to make some preparations.” said Hannah.

“By all means,” replied Castiel. “I think I’ll take a walk to clear my head.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Hannah, not giving Castiel a chance to reply.

 __“I assumed you’d be going, as acting Commander.”

“Oh, thank you sir. I promise I’ll take good notes.”

“That isn’t really necessary.” Said Castiel, practically pushing Hannah out of hjs office:

Castiel took the elevator down to the lobby. _Since when was there an elevator in Heaven? Since when was there a skyscraper in Heaven? How long have I been away?_    Castiel found a footpath with short rock walls on either side. He waited until saw no angels for a while. He then walked over the wall, walked a bit longer, heading for an old growth tree. He sat down on the moss and leaned back, starting to go over the events in hid mind. No matter where he started, hit thoughts always ended up in one place: Dean Winchester.


	6. Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killing is not as exhilarating anymore; Dean longs to be free of the Mark of Cain and the First Blade
> 
> Dean learns, to his amazement, that two supernatural beings are in love with him
> 
> Much as Dean increasingly resents being stuck traveling with Crowley, he discovers  
> the terror of what might happen if he walked out Crowley's door on his own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First. Sorry for the delay in publishing this. Life has been unusually demanding.
> 
> Second. I know very little about tesseracts other than that they are four-dimensional cubes. I've based the tesseract in this story on "A Wrinkle in Time," which is referenced in Wikipedia as "a science fantasy novel using the word "tesseract" (without reference to its geometrical meaning)"
> 
> Third. When my sister and I tried as children to build a tesseract from toothpicks and glue, it didn't work.

**Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide  
 **Yoices trapped in yearning memories trapped in time**  
 **\- Sarah Ann McLachlan****

Being a demon was boring. After the initial rush of giving into the Mark of Cain and the first blade, Dean felt about as much pleasure in killing as he did in eating a good cheeseburger. Better than grilled cheese, yes, but nothing to write home about. Where is home? What does it mean anymore? He asked Crowley to take him home for a little while.

“And where exactly is home?” Crowley asked.

“My apartment with Sam, I guess.”

Crowley shook his head. “No can do, pet.”

After his dream, Dean had no desire to visit his childhood home.

“I thought you said you could take me anywhere I wanted to go.”

“I did,” said Crowley, “and I can. You just happened to choose one of the few places I can’t take you. I wasn’t lying, remember. I just may have forgotten to mention every single place I can’t take you.”

“And that reminds me,” Dean continued, stretched out on a dark red velvet davenport, his leather boots leaving dirt and scuff marks. “What was all that about ‘ _See_ what I see and _Feel_ what I feel?’ I was curious about that. Not too thrilled about this whole demon thing, but at least that part sounded interesting.

“So what am I supposed to be feeling and seeing? I see a little weird colors, but that’s it. Mostly I feel pissed about being stuck with the fucking Mark of Cain and the first blade. I don’t want them anymore. I also feel pissed at you; it would’ve real handy if you hadn’t “left out” a few details. Like all can feel now is either the overwhelming urge to kill or literally puking my guts out.

And then I feel guilty because I don’t really want to kill. Till the mark and the blade get ahold of me again. Somehow I don’t think any of that that is what you were talking about when you told me to see and feel like you do,” Dean concluded, eating a particularly delicious Concord grape from a plate on the coffee table. “These grapes are the balls. Is that a perk of being a demon? If it is, I definitely feel it,” he said, eating another grape. “Which reminds me. How is it that I can eat and drink as much as I want to, but never need to piss or take a shit?”

“You’re overwhelming me with questions, pet. One at a time. Seeing weird colors is definitely not what I meant. Tell me, you don’t see the world as a new frontier, full of new opportunity that you had no concept even existed when you were human?

“Nope,” said Dean petulantly. “I feel exactly the same except for the colors. How would you know anyhow? You’ve always been a demon. You got nothing to compare with.”

“True. But one can always hope. Sometimes I wish I’d never heard of that word. Hope. Useless word. Fancy a walk?”

“Yeah, but I’ve already killed this morning, and it’s not time for my evening kill. I assume that’s not what you mean by feeling as you feel. You don’t have to kill. You kill cause you _like it._ In fact, you’ve got this all ass backwards. _You_ have no idea how _I_ feel. But I’d love to get out of here. What about the rest of my questions?”

“We’ll get to them” Crowley reassured. “Walk first.”

Crowley always opened door to his quarters himself. Sometimes he asked Dean where he would like to go, sometimes not. This time the door led to a world of ice and snow.

“Crowley, I cant stay here. I’m wearing a t-shirt and it’s fucking freezing– wait. What the hell? I’m not cold. This is weird. How come I’m not cold?”

“Ever wonder why your beloved Castiel always wears same trench coat despite the weather? Aside from vanity? Angels and demons don’t feel hot or cold. Anyhow, this is northern Alaska, I believe. Full of eskimos – no, wait, that word isn’t used anymore. Something thing that sounds like idiot.

“Inuit,” Dean interrupted. And before Crowley asked him how he knew that, he added “I told you I watch movies. And TV. There was this show, one episode took place in Alaska, and”

“Enough vocabulary lessons for today,” interrupted Crowley. “Anyhow, you haven’t answered the most important question. Fancy killing an Inuit?”

“You know full well I always “fancy” killing anyone. I don’t _need_ to yet, but I wouldn’t say no. Kinda like a snack between meals.” Dean needed no assistance; he took naturally to stealth and killing and was never spotted.

“You should have been a mountain lion,” Crowley said. “Stupid, but graceful.”

“Shut up,” said Dean as he attempted to kill an Inuit from behind. The blade didn’t extend through the man’s clothing. “Whoa. Those coats must be a foot thick,” Dean said as he grabbed the man by the shoulder, spun him around, and ripped open his coat. The Inuit looked more confused than scared. Which lasted for all of two seconds until the blade was in his heart and he was dead. Crowley took the body and disappeared, like usual.

Dean was delighted to leave disposing of the remains to Crowley. He wondered why he was spared this indignity. Maybe Crowley thought dealing with the unavoidable aftermath would lessen his desire to kill. Hah, he thought. No way. Nothing was getting in the way of Dean’s blade when he wanted (needed?) to kill. Except maybe his guilty conscience after a kill, before the need took over again. Especially this kill, which wasn’t really necessary, because the mark and blade seemed to be sleeping, as usual, until they were ready to be used properly.

In addition to Dean’s personal guilty conscience, he felt he was somehow betraying the purpose of his gift. He knew in his heart that the mark and blade were made for much higher purposes than randomly offing a teenager or an Eskimo. He suspected Crowley was toying with him, waiting for him to want to go howl at the moon. He was going to have to wait a damn long time. The last thing Dean wanted to do was celebrate his situation. Well, the second to last. Dean was half-human. What he wanted most of all was to avoid condemning himself to a grisly and hideously painful death.

=====

When they returned to Crowley’s quarters, Crowley was irritable and grouchy. He too been thinking about Dean’s mark and blade, but for a very different reason. “Maybe it’s that almighty Mark of Cain and the bloody first blade that’s stopping you being a real demon. I’m getting colossally sick of this half human half demon deal. Really, it’s hardly what I excepted when I saved your life to make you my demon companion.”

With no notice, Crowley made the first blade fly from Dean’s boot into his hand. He turned it over in his hands and appeared to study it. Dean immediately began to spit blood, even though he had just killed.

“Not on my bed, you don’t. Those are 800 thread 100 percent Egyptian cotton sheets. If you’re going to expel blood, do it somewhere else.”

Crowley tossed back the knife. It seemed to magnetically land in Dean’s hand. “Feeling better now, are we?”

“Nice to stop vomiting blood, I’ll give you that, but the killing itself isn’t so much of a high anymore. It’s like taking a good shit after you’ve been plugged up for days. Yeah, I still need to kill or I get sick. I get especially sick right after a kill, which don’t make any sense. But there’s no fun in it now except the few seconds of plunging the blade. Killing’s like coming. Unbelievably good for a few seconds then—“

“Dean. Why don’t you shut up and pretend you have a brain. Human or demon; doesn’t matter. Take a look around you.”

“What?

“Books.”

“Jesus. Have you always had such a huge library?”

“Certainly since you’ve been here.”

“Did you really read all those books?”

“Well, not all of them.”

“You read any of them?”

“You never know when I might have visitors. Literate visitors. Those leather bindings add a touch of class, don’t you think? Much better than some old and ratty tapestry of a unicorn.

“Dean you really are an idiot. Do you honestly think the King of Hell hasn’t read any books? How else would I know about angels, humans, Heaven, Earth, theology? How would I know about anything except being the King of Hell? Plus my job description doesn’t exactly attract a large circle of friends. Yes I’ve read my library. Several times. God you’re lucky you have such a cute ass. I can’t take you anywhere.”

“We go out every day,” said Dean.

Crowley sighed. “It was a rhetorical statement.”

“Rehtori what now?” asked Dean.

“Jesus Christ Almighty you can be dense. Maybe I should just give up and take you home.”

“Home?” asked Dean. “I’d like nothing better. Except I thought you couldn’t. What’s up with that, oh almighty King of Hell?”

“Cut it out,” said Crowley.

“Could Castiel take me back home?” Dean asked.

Crowley shot him a burning look. “What do you think? Your precious personal angel who would do anything for you? Who nearly destroyed Heaven and Earth with the apocalypse and personally rescued you from, what did he call it, perdition. Yes, one would expect Castiel could take you home. But I can give you so much more. Your life, for example. You’d have been dead if I hadn’t saved you. If you recall, Castiel was getting so low on grace he was almost dying himself. Only I could bring you back from the dead. Only I could give you the power of the mark and the first blade. You’re a natural killer; you don’t need help with that. When you’re interested, you’re a quick study. But your interests are painfully limited.”

“I’m interested in you,” Dean replied. “So what happened with all the “pet” and “love” talk. You hardly ever call me that anymore. I was getting used to it.”

“Well, _love,_ I seem to recall your telling me you’re not my pet and don’t want me to call you anything that implies friendship.if you want me to refer to you in terms of endearment, try acting a little more endearing. Attitude. It’s all about attitude. You’d find it challenging, I should imagine, to think about someone else’s needs for a moment.”

“You have needs?” asked Dean, totally serious. “You’re a demon. Demons aren’t supposed to have needs.”

“ What makes you think that? You’re a demon too.”

“A half demon,” Dean corrected.

“Fine. A half demon. You don’t have any needs? Any needs at all?”

“Can you take me to Heaven?’

“Stop asking stupid questions.“

“So you can’t take me to Heaven?”

Crowley sighed. “Why do you think you’re here in my opulent quarters in the first place, _pet_? And I’d appreciate your taking your boots off that davenport. It’s an eighteenth century French baroque antique.”

Dean kicked at a grape that had fallen off the coffee table. “So this – here with you in this tiny house – so this is it. Forever?”

“Stop pouting. What’s forever? I wouldn’t know, would I? I’m still here. I imagine I’ll be here a long, long time. But you, you could escape. You could leave. You could die. So you don’t see what I see. You don’t feel what I feel. Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but remember. I never actually lied to you. That’s –

“Yeah. That’s important. I remember. That’s fucking fundamental. Why the does lying matter so much when you’ve killed so many people? And what’s so fundamental? I don’t get it. So you’re a little shit who never quite lies outright. You lie by admission. Who cares? And how were you so wrong about me? I hardly feel any different from when I was human. You’re usually pretty spot on, not that I give a shit.”

Crowley sighed. “Omission, not admission. Dean Dean Dean. You have no concept of how you hurt me. Why was I wrong about you? Wrong guess? Even the King of Hell doesn’t know everything. At least my experiment didn’t fail entirely. I did choose an excellent example of humanity.”

“What experiment? And you’re calling me excellent? I thought according to you I’m an idiot sav, savon, oh fuck you know what I mean. You think I can’t do anything but kill. I’m getting really sick and tired of having this conversation over and over like Groundhog Day and your answers aren’t helping. Why can’t I die now, like Cain?”

“I told you. Cain was a demon. He had power that you can’t imagine.”

“Yeah, but I’m a half demon. I never tried to use the blade on myself. Maybe that was the missing key. Will I be a half demon forever? Cause I really am done with this. It ain’t worth it. I miss Sam. I miss Cas. I want out. How do I get home?”

“Idiot. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me – why should I know about you?”

“What about when you were on human blood? Did you feel different then?”

“Of course I felt different. Imbecile. I could live for months without having to go home or come back here. I could go anywhere-“

“Except Heaven or home.”

“Wrong. I couldn’t go to Heaven. I certainly could go home. King of Hell strike a chord?”

“What made you stop?”

“I missed being a demon, idiot. You are really starting to irritate me.”

“Where’d you come from, anyhow? You seem to have been around forever.”

“Not quite. Believe it or not, I was the son of the original two angels. Adam and Eve. People assume they were human, but once again the Bible was wrong. They were angels. Humans didn’t exist yet. And the original angels didn’t exactly have a home, now, did they? After they were banned from Eden. They weren’t banned because Eve took a bite of an apple, you know. Even God’s not that stupid. They were banned for fucking and having me.”

“Ironic, cause they got rid of me as soon as they could. Which is why I needed a new home. Hell. Gave me something to do, creating Hell. Waiting for some more demons to show up. Where did you think demons come from? Why do you think you never see little demon children?”

Dean thought about it. “Demons eat their kids for breakfast?”

Crowley reached over the table and slapped Dean on the cheek.

“Don’t you dare say that.” Demons can’t procreate. Not even when they’re in a fertile vessel. That part just shuts down. Just because two angels had an ugly little boy everyone hated. But we’re not bloody cannibals who’d eat our own children.”

“So where does the demon population come from?”

“Rogue angels.”

“Christ, Crowley, its’ getting hard to tell the difference between angels and demons.”

“See, this is why I put up with you. Every now and then you say something brilliant. So this it what it comes down to. This is what’s important. What’s fundamental. The question of angels and demons; two sides of the same coin, or the same side? Or are both sides the same? Spin a coin and what do you get? Heads? Tails? Angel? Demon? Human? Random choice? Or doesn’t it matter? All three, humans and angels and demons, fought wars and killed each other and their own kind in the name of what? A God no one ever saw? He’d probably skipped town and started again on another planet when he saw what a mess he’d made of Earth.”

“So where do humans fit in?” Dean’s nails were bitten to the quick, a habit he had when he was really interested in something.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” said Crowley.

“What was it like for the first humans?” Dean asked.

“No idea. I never visited them. Why should I have done? It was boring. No little demons for me to play with. and mistakes galore. We’ve learned even the almighty _God_ can make mistakes. Look what happened when he tried to breed two angels and got a demon baby instead. Did God show any mercy? Hardly. Just disgust at the progeny of his creations. Do you know what it feels like to be despised just for being born? I rather doubt it.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” said Dean.

Crowley gave Dean a long, crooked look, then shook his head. “Originally I wanted to breed a demon and an angel. I wanted to see what procreation occurs when a demon and a human create a baby. I’d be the demon part of the experiment except I can’t stand women that way. Makes me sick. Literally sick. But now the experiment has become even more fascinating: demon, angel, and human. Unfortunately, I’ll probably have to deal with some jealousy. But I’m used to it. I’ve been in love with you since we first met, but that can’t be helped.”

“What the hell did you just say?” Dean’s mouth literally hung open.

“You heard me,” said Crowley. “To use your parlance, it’s a drag. But it has nothing to do with my experiment.”

“Shut up about the experiment,” Dean said, sitting up suddenly and knocking over his beer. “Oh, sorry, where are the”

“Don’t worry about the bloody beer. Yes, Dean, I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, but I’m a bitter old demon and you’re an angry young half-demon and I know it won’t work so shut up and don’t make it any worse.”

“You’re in _love_ with me?! Jesus fucking Christ. How the hell did _that_ happen?”

“Did you pay any attention to what I just said? Or is this how you shut up?” Crowley took a deep breath. “To answer your question: hormones, your stunning good looks, the usual.”

“Shit, Crowley. I didn’t mean, I mean, I never meant, I, I’m totally astounded.”

“Don't be. Not your fault. Your pretty little angel Castiel is in love with you too. Has been since he first laid eyes on you. There must be something be something angels and demons find irresistible about you. Now let’s get back to my experiment,”

Dean didn’t hear a word after he heard Castiel was in love with him. He couldn’t comprehend the thought of Castiel being in love with him.. He knew he was in love with Cas; that much was obvious. he just couldn’t wrap his head around the thought of it being mutual. His thoughts drifted back to the present.

“Hold on a minute. What makes you think I want to be part of this experiment?”

“Sorry, mate. Not your choice.”

“So all this, bringing me back from the dead, making me half demon, training me to use the Mark and the Blade, it was about me knocking up some angel girl?”

“Not precisely. My hope was that you’d turn 100% demon. As it is, I’m not certain you’re even 50% demon. Show me your demon eyes.”

Dean was already angry at Crowley and had no trouble staring at him with shining black eyes. “Don’t forget how excellent I am at killing,” he added.

Crowley smiled at Dean’s eyes and attitude. “I had originally hoped to perform the experiment with a true demon and angel, but your mixed blood adds a new aspect. I can always jump down to Hell and find another demon. But you’re probably the only chance I’ll get at mixing human, demon, and angel blood.”

“So it’s still about me knocking up some angel chick for you to see what happens if she gets pregnant,”

“More or less.”

“Not happening,” said Dean. “No way. This is sounding way too much like Josef Mengele for my tastes. And before you go all gaga on me, my father was a Marine and loved to tell war stories, and I’ve always been interested in World War II. I used to make Sammy help me reenact battles and for my birthday once Dad got me a huge set of soldiers and-“

“Enough,” said Crowley, his eyes flickering black. “I am acquainted with World War II. In fact, I was there. I met Josef Mengele in person and found him to be a very troubled and odious man.

“My experiment bears no resemblance to Mengeles’. I want merely to fulfill women’s biologic clocks, while letting you have some fun at the same time. There is nothing nefarious about my plans. I won’t be forcing anyone to do anything against their will. I image the entire experience will be quite pleasant.”

“Pleasant?! Sure I like sex, but not _that_ much. I can say no. And I’m saying it now. NO FUCKING WAY. I’m not fucking some random angel, just to knock her up and see what comes out. Angels are people, too. I’ve killed plenty, as you know. But I’m not about to commit what sounds an awful lot like rape to me. I’d rather have sex with you.

“In fact, sex with you isn’t half bad. I mean, you’ve had an eternity to practice, right?” He lay his hand on the table and tried to take Crowely’s, which quickly disappeared out of reach. “We’re good together, Crowley, really,” Dean begged. “I like you. I want you so much more than your stupid experiment. The only way you’re going to make me part of it is to knock me out. I’m beginning to see why you call yourself King of Hell.”

Crowley sighed. “This experiment has nothing to do with Hell or my status there.. If there were any other way. But it’s you. It’s always been you.” Crowley took advantage of Dean’s disorientation to knock him out cold. He tipped Dean’s head back, clamped his nose shut, and poured a vial of liquid into his mouth. Some dripped unattractively down his chin.

Crowley carefully wiped off Dean’s chin, then opened the door and let in the three angels who’d been waiting. Like a zombie, Dean had sex in turn with three lovely young angels. Probably nothing would come from this, but Crowley could always hope. Maybe human blood was the missing part of the equation. At least it worked; one of the angels was about ½ hour pregnant. He escorted the angels out. “See you later, love,” he said to the pregnant angel.

Dean slowly began to return to consciousness. “Ow! What happened?” he asked Crowley.

“You just made love with three beautiful angels. One took.”

“Took what?”

Crowley shook his head and looked at Dean. “No one took anything. One of the woman became pregnant.”

“How do you know that?” Dean asked, still pretty shaken up, “It’s way too early.”

Crowley pointed at himself. “King of Hell, remember? Advantages.”

“Which angel did I knock up?”

“Can’t tell you. No kiss and tell.”

===

After the experiment, Dean went into the kitchen and poured a large whiskey to calm down. He didn’t know if it was his human half slugging down the whiskey, or if demons enjoyed drinking too. A few minutes later, Crowley showed up.

“Get outta here, will ya?” Dean asked. “If I’m going to be your prisoner here, to knock out and make babies with or whatever else you do to me when I’m asleep, I’d like some time by myself. I’m just sayin,”

“How many times have I told you, the King of Hell is not a prison guard. You can leave any time you like. Just open the door and go.”

“Anyplace is better than here with you.” Dean walked over to the door and put his hand on the knob. Suddenly Crowley was right behind him, a hand on his shoulder.

“What did I just say to you?” said Dean. “I’m doing this alone.”

“No worries, darling. I’m merely curious. I only want to see where you end up.”

“You and me both,” said Dean as he opened the door. His stomach flipped. All he saw was infinite black, stretching through eternity. It wasn’t just night; it was black. No moon or stars. Even on a moonless night he could see stars. This was what he imagined the inside of a black hole looked like. He took a shaky step back and tripped over Crowley’s shoe, knocking himself toward the door. Dean screamed as Crowley grabbed his waist and pulled him back in. Dean kicked the door shut with a slam.

“Wha? What the hell was that?” he asked, still shaking and very glad of Crowley’s strong grip, even after the door was shut. “Did you make that? What is it? That was the single most terrifying experience I’ve had in my life. And I’ve had some real corkers. Jesus. I’d have pissed my pants if I could piss.”

Crowley let go of Dean’s waist, but not before turning him around so they were face to face. He was smiling.

“Get that fucking grin off your face, dickhead. You knew that would happen. That’s why you followed me to the door. What are you, some kind of sadist?” Dean shouted.

Crowley laughed. “I’m a demon. We’re all sadists. Comes with the territory.”

“Was that that even real?” asked Dean, his voice returning to normal.

“You tell me. What’s real?” Crowley answered in a half amused tone of voice.

“If I’d fallen out, what would have happened to me? Would I have died?”

“Well, never having done so myself, I’d have to make an educated guess. No. I don’t think you would have died. I imagine you might spend eternity falling.”

“Great. Why would you show all this to me? How do you do it?”

“Are you incapable of asking one question at a time? Why would I show you? To show you an alterative to living with me. And, in the spirit of full exposure, because it makes me look cool. Is that the right word? Or is it hot?’

Dean burst out laughing. “Cool. You are definitely not hot.”

“How it happened is much more interesting than why. I didn’t make it happen at all. Tesseracts can be unpredictable. “

“Tesser what now?”

“Tesseracts. My apartment may feel like a haven of safety, albeit boring safety, floating through the universe. But it’s not. That’s an illusion.”

“Did you make all that blackness?”

“I told you. No. I imagine it’s been here since before the beginning of time.”

“Say what? How can something exist before time?” Dean asked, halfway between fascinated and furious.

“How should I know? I wasn’t there. It was **before time.** I’m old, but I’m not that old. Nothing on this planet is that old.“

“How could it exist at all?”

“Ahhh. The essence of tesseracts. One of my favorite paradoxes. To be fair, I must confess to a limited understanding of tesseracts myself, mathematics not being my strong suit. So this might not be 100% accurate.”

“Since when is anything you tell me 100% accurate?”

Crowley ignored Dean’s interruption and continued.

“A tesseract is essentially a four-dimensional cube. So, theoretically, it exists in our three dimensions plus a fourth: 4-dimensional time, space, matter, and something else that’s essentially beyond our understanding. Because we don’t exist in a four dimensional world, we can only posit what it’s like. We know the parameters of the first three dimensions, so I’m guessing that a tesseract exists in its own time and space. Which includes but also exceeds ours. What you experienced felt like a void to you because you’re a three-dimensional being. But really, it was just the fourth dimension of time.”

Dean looked puzzled.

“Look, I’ll show you. Now, look out this window.”

Since it involved staying safely indoors, Dean looked out the window.

“That’s my apartment with Sam. In our building. On our street. On Earth. You’re messing with my mind. How can - you said you couldn’t take me home.”

“What you’re looking at is your home from at least several thousand light years away. I don’t imagine you’d survive for as long as it would take you to reach it.”

“So it’s not my home?” Dean sounded thoroughly confused.

“No, I just told you. It is your home. It’s just a bit further away than it seems. It would take you quite a while to get there. Possibly never, Here, I’ll show you.” Crowley went into the kitchen and emerged with two fine china plates. “Expensive, but worth it if it helps your tiny brain to understand. What would you expect would happen if I opened this window and threw out this plate?”

“It would land on my roof and shatter?”

Crowley handed the plate to Dean. “See for yourself. Chuck it out as far as you can.”

Dean spun the plate like a frisbee and waited for it to crash on the roof. It didn’t. It just spun on and on until it disappeared from view.

“I imagine this is what happens to the bodies I dispose of out here.”

“You throw dead bodies into the fourth dimension? Jesus Christ. That is just wrong.”

“Depends on your point of view. Literally. I’ll show you. We haven’t moved. The door leads to the same apparent void.

“I don’t get it,” Dean said.

“Follow me,” said Crowley, trying to suppress a grin. He walked back to the door.

“No way,” said Dean. “I’m not getting anywhere near that door again.”

“I figured as much,” Crowley replied. He took down a huge picture hanging by the door. “Grab onto the hook and don’t let go.”

“That hook looks like it would break if a mouse stepped on it.”

“It wouldn’t” said Crowley. “But if it makes you feel better, hold onto me.”

Dean grabbed Crowley as if he were drowning and Crowley was his only hope of survival.

“Don’t worry so much. I’m only going to open the door a few inches. Now look.”

Dean peered over Crowley’s shoulder and saw the same blackness.

“I already saw it,” he said, bordering on hysteria. He grabbed Crowley even tighter.

“Wait. You haven’t seen the best part.” Crowley took the other plate and chucked it out the door. Impossibly, the view of the plate stayed the same size while it sped backwards quicker than Dean could follow. It never seemed to look smaller.

“How come I don’t see the dead bodies?” asked Dean.

“I have no idea. It’s big out there. Bodies are small.”

“Plates are smaller. And how come the first plate disappeared but this one didn’t?”

Crowley sighed. “I don’t know everything. I do know you’re strong,” Crowley said, “but give a demon space to breathe.” Crowley kicked the door closed and Dean let go of him.

“How, wait, the door usually opens to normal places. How do you un-tessa whatever it is? Is it a demon thing?”

“How many times do I have to tell you this? My experience of life is limited to being a demon. I. Don’t. Know. I highly doubt tesseracts are a “demon thing” as you so eloquently put it. Because, as I’ve told you, they existed before our time.”

“So how do you make sure the door’s gonna open on a three-dimensional place? Is there an off button to the 4th dimension?

Crowley laughed. “No, there is no off button. Take a look around. There are no buttons at all. I just think of where I want to go, similar to demon and angel fast track travel, and we’re there.”

“How do you know for sure you landed in the right place?”

“I don’t. But it hasn’t been a problem yet.”

Dean’s desire to leave Crowley and go home, or anyplace but Crowley’s tessa-whatever machine, increased 100-fold.


	7. I can see for miles and miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel rescues Dean from Crowley, but Heaven isn't quite what he had in mind.
> 
> Dean discovers what Castiel already knows. No matter where he lives, he is still himself, no matter where he gpes..
> 
> You cannot escape from yourself. Even in Heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I apologize for the long wait between chapters. I have not been getting along with my mac, and it has often surprised and infuriated me. I imagine it thinks the same about me.
> 
> Anyhow, I have written Chapter 8 and only need to edit it before I post it. So the next wait should be shorter.
> 
> Thanks for your patience, I can't even complain that I've suffered from a setback due to problems with my mac. If anything, it's the other way around.
> 
> People say pushing through your probems will not only fix them, but fix the author as well. I'm still waiting.

**I know you deceived me now here's a surprise  
I know that you have cause there's magic in my eyes  
** **I can see for miles and miles  
** ****I can see for miles and miles  
** ** **I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles  
** **Oh yeah** ****  


**-Pete Townshend, The Who**

        

     Castiel was very worried about Dean. He spent almost all his time sitting under his tree, unaware of the beauty surrounding him. Heaven, much like Earth, had personal places that ranged from mountains for ice-climbing to oceans in every stage of tide. Castiel was sitting in a common area, on a bench set forty of fifty feet from a public walkway. The path was rarely used; many angels preferred teleporting. Castiel often sat on the rustic but sanded and painted bench when he wanted to think. Funny how we appreciate nature, he thought, don’t think twice about the necessity of wars, but we avoid the risk of splinters.

     The angel had fallen into the habit of sitting on the bench and watching Dean and Crowley. Dean’s “I can deal with Crowley anytime” bravado did not impress Castiel. He’d known the demon for centuries longer than Dean had, and he knew Crowley was patient. Very patient. Dean might feel safe with Crowley now, but in truth, no one was ever safe with Crowley.  Perhaps after the hybrid child was born, perhaps before then, on a whim of frustration, Crowley was perfectly capable of “ganking” Dean whenever he wanted. Most likely when Dean stopped being entertaining or useful. And now, he’d no longer have any reason to bring Dean back to life.

     Dean’s self-reliance and absolute faith in his ability to tackle anything and come out on top was adorable but terrifying. Castiel hoped the tesseract had knocked some sense into him. Dean had not no idea how close he’d been to being chucked out with the dead bodies, how easily he could accidentally set Crowley off, or how rapidly he could squash Dean the way he’d squash a mosquito, without even thinking about it.

Many times had Castiel cursed that damn moving home of Crowley’s.  He could have rescued Dean many times over, had he had the coordinates.

He’d come rescue Dean any time; his grace was fully restored and Hannah was doing a fine job of administering to the endless meetings and discussions and paperwork entailed in keeping Heaven running smoothly. Perhaps because she actually enjoyed the work, she was very efficient.

 However, even Castiel couldn’t rescue Dean if he didn’t know where he was. Perhaps an archangel could do that, but Castiel was not on very good terms with any of them at the moment. God, of course, could save Dean with a snap of his fingers, which helped very little since no one had seen God in a very long time.

Castiel was afraid to call Dean, as he had no idea how Crowley would react. So, he’d spent the last two months sitting under his tree, watching and worrying.

         Suddenly he felt the familiar pain in his head of Dean calling him. This was going to be tricky. Especially taking into account the tesseract, and its own unpredictable behavior. Crowley treated that tesseract the same way he treated Dean: an interesting specimen to be enjoyed or destroyed at will. Though surely even Crowley wasn’t arrogant enough to believe he could control a tesseract.

         Dean kept ringing in his head until Castiel gave up. Much as he’d like to keep Dean safe forever, that was impossible.

         “Hello Dean.”

         “Oh thank God,” Dean whispered from a corner of the bathroom Crowley had installed to soak in the tub and accommodate the needs of human visitors. “Where are you?”

         “I am sitting under a tree in a garden in Heaven.”

         “I’d forgotten how goddamn literal you are. You gotta come save me.  Crowley’s been actin’ weird and I’m afraid he’s gonna throw me into a tesseract and I gotta see you and Sam first.” Dean whispered, forgetting himself occasionally and whispering rather loudly.

         “There’s no need to whisper, Dean. Crowley has extraordinary hearing even for a demon. I am certain he has heard every word you’ve said to me.”

         “Hallo, Cas,” Crowley shouted from the main  room. “How’s it hangin?”

         “I do not understand your question. Nothing is hanging from anywhere, as far as I know. I believe Dean called me for a different reason.”

         Crowley laughed. “He’s all yours, Castiel,” he said rather loudly for Dean’s benefit, and resumed reading a book comparing the relative merits of demons and witches. His chair was upholstered in deep burgundy velvet, matching the décor of the rest of the room.

         “I am sorry if it upsets you to hear this, Dean, but you are not all mine. People are neither possessions nor—”

         “Cut to the chase, Cas. Can you rescue me?”

         “Not while you are in a moving building. Can you return to the park where I saw you last?

         “Say what?” Dean asked, entirely confused.

         “Sam was there. We were discussing the meaning of the word bitch.”

         “Oh, you mean when I was dreaming.”

         “Right. Angels do not sleep, thus we do not dream. For me, talking to you in your dream is not very different from talking to you while you are awake. From your perspective, the experience might seem very different, but”

         “Cas’, shut up about dreams. You need to come get me. How are you gonna do that? Should I ask Crowley to take me someplace famous, like the Statue of Liberty, and meet you there?”

         “I have no idea where the Statue of Liberty is located, although I have heard its history is fascinating.”

         “Oh for crying out loud. You two deserve each other. Dean, hang up on Castiel. Cas, ring me.” Crowley squatted in the bathroom next to Dean, who was sitting on the gratuitous toilet. The décor in the bathroom was as tastelessly expensive as the rest of the home. Dark red fixtures with polished gold details dominated the room. Dean briefly wondered if the toilet paper was red or black, or perhaps gold He hoped he didn’t have to find out _._

         “Will you allow me to leave with Dean without a fight?” Castiel asked Crowley.

         Crowley sighed, “Would I be inviting you if I wasn’t planning on letting you take Dean? Your timing is quite fortuitous. I’m growing sick of the lad, half demon or no, and he has already finished his role in my experiment.”

            Castiel was vey curious about this experiment, but that would have to wait. “Hang up, Dean” he said, as if Dean hadn’t just heard the conversation. “I need to call Crowley.”

         “Yeah, I got that,” answered Dean. He turned to Crowley red in the face with anger, and said “I’m glad this is so convenient for you, Crowley. I didn’t know I was in position.”

         “In position?” Crowley asked. “Like a sexual position?”

         “Jesus, Crowley. Stop being such a dickhead. No I don’t mean sexual position.” he answered with a sneer, and a tiny bit of embarrassment.

        “By any chance do you mean imposition?”

         “Yeah, I was under the impression you wanted me here. For sex, if nothing else. Sorry for being such a fucking imposition.”

         “Hardly.”

         “Excuse me, Dean, but can you please hang up so I can call Crowley?” Castiel repeated.

         “Oh. Yeah.” Dean broke the connection in their heads.

         -----

         Castiel immediately felt a ringing in his head ten times louder and more painful than Dean’s call had been.

         “Castiel, my man,” said Crowley.

         “I am an angel, not a man.”

         Crowley sighed. “Fine. Whatever. Can you lock onto me?”

         Castiel appeared between Crowley and Dean. “Yes,” Cas answered, responding with a series of numbers Dean had no hope of understanding. Castiel moved slightly closer to Dean and stared at him, taking him in with his eyes.

         “Jesus. Is this International Stupid Day?” said Dean. “Com’mere,”  he said to Castiel, closing the distance between them and enveloping the angel in a huge bear hug. Dean could feel Castiel’s entire body stiffen, then relax and hug him back. It was a very long hug.

         “Ok you two. Outta my face. For now,” Crowley said, addressing the last phrase rather ominously to Dean.

         Dean and Castiel separated, not really wanting to hug mid-transition. Dean and Crowley watched as Castiel strategically adjusted his trench coat. His face was hot and bright red. Dean took Castiel’s hand, and they were in that strange space demons and angels use as the fast lane. A second later, they were in Heaven, under Castiel’s tree. Castiel squinted as he looked around to make sure their arrival went unnoticed. He looked straight at Dean for a moment, huge blue eyes wide open, then turned his head slightly to the side, squinting as usual.

         “Stop being such an assbutt and get over here,” Dean said as he pulled Castiel toward him and hugged him tightly again.

         “I’ve missed you very much, Dean,” Castiel said. He gently kissed Dean’s neck, kissing higher and stronger as he worked his way up to Dean’s face. He started to approach Dean’s mouth when Dean pulled away.

         Castiel looked confused. “I thought that was what you wanted.”

         Dean pulled back and said “It is. You can’t believe how much I want it. But first,” he looked down at his feet. “I gotta apologize. For biting you. You know. When I saw you at Crowley’s that first time. I was confused. I felt more like a demon back then, but I wasn’t sure how to be one, so I bit your tongue, I’m so sorry—”

         “Dean, it’s all right,” Castiel interrupted. “I knew you were at least partially a demon, and I was expecting you to act like one.”

         “But I bit your tongue, Cas. I bit it so hard I could taste your blood. I still remember; it was salty but sweet and unlike any blood I’d tasted before.”

         The corners of Castiel’s mouth turned up slightly as he said “You must have tasted a lot of blood for comparison.”

         “Mmmm. As least two to three hundred women’s, more if you count non-humans.

         “How about we stop counting and reset to zero? And keep it at zero.’’

         Dean smiled. “Whoa, do I detect a note of jealousy?”

         “Try a symphony,” Castiel replied.

         “Huh. Really, I didn’t know angels could be jealous.”

         Castiel tipped his head slightly and squinted off into the distance.

         “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m good with letting the whole thing drop.”

         “I’m not,” said Castiel, uncharacteristically angry. “So tell me, Dean. What was it like having sex with Crowley? It appeared to me that you enjoyed it, quite a lot. Is there something about sex with demons that is irresistible, or is it just Crowley? Tell me, are you in love with him too?”

         “Hold on a minute, Cas. You’re way off base about Crowley. Of course I’m not in love with him. Jeesh. Even the idea seems lu, lud, ludi something. Help me out here, Cas.”

         “The word you are looking for is ‘ludicrous.’ In fact, I find it ludicrous that you ask me for help with a word about your ex-lover.”

         “Who said anything about ex-lovers? I told you, I’m not in love with Crowley. I was never in love with Crowley. I admit he was good at giving blow jobs and sticking his fingers up my ass. But that’s just sex. There’s a difference between sex and love. So Crowley gives good head. He was probably trying to make sure I’d stay and be a part of his experiment. There was never any love involved.” The image of Crowley casually remarking on how he’d always been in love with him entered  his mind, unbidden. Dean pushed it away.

         “But I love _you_. Cas. It’s always been you. Fuck, I’d love you even if you didn’t have any junk. I’d miss sex, sure. But I could get used to it. I could get used to anything if it meant I could be with you. Really. Anything. I love you, you stupid angel. I thought I was supposed to be the dumb one around here. But I gotta say, Cas, you’re acting very weird. Is it that you don’t really want me now I’m here? Was it fun to think about when it was just an idea, but in reality, not so much? Are you embarrassed that other angels will see you with me?”

         “Dean, I do not care about what anyone else thinks of us, and it is hardly news here that I love you. I love you more than it is possible to love anyone. I would brave Hell for you. I already did, before you had any idea who I was.  Do you remember me saying “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition?” I would do so over and over and over again if I had to. I fell in love with you looking down at you from Heaven, and I will never stop loving you. You’ll age, you’ll grow old, and you’ll die, and, while it will tear my heart apart, I will still love you. What more can I tell you?”

         “That’s really sweet, Cas. I feel terrible now. I’m just a really jealous guy.”

         “I am a really jealous angel,” Castiel responded, with an uncharacteristic smile.”  

         Dean suddenly remembered the angels that Crowley forced him to have sex with for procreation, and how one of them was actually pregnant. He especially remembered his feelings about being a father; in a word, terror. But no doubt Castiel had seen that too. They could talk about it later. For now, he suddenly felt very sleepy. He lay down on the sweet grass and put his  head on Castiel’s thigh. “S’ok? he asked Castiel, already most of the way asleep.

         “Better than ok,” Castiel whispered. He didn’t want to  make any noise that might wake Dean. He ran his fingers through the top of Dean’s hair. He traced Dean’s face, the hard jaw and the soft lips, with his finger. Castiel usually meditated instead of sleeping, but for now he was content to watch Dean sleep.

         At first Dean had sweet, sexy dreams about Castiel. They were both male virgins; at least Dean assumed that He asked, but Castiel told him to ask when he was awake. I’m awake now, aren’t I? Dean thought, and pinched his arm. But he was asleep, and even as he pinched himself, he couldn’t remember why or what he was doing. Then he turned his head and bit Castiel’s thigh, for real. He bit through the fabric until he could taste Castiel’s sweet, tangy blood. He started to take a deeper bite, almost as if  he were eating Cas, when the angel woke him up. He didn’t want to be awake; he wanted to go back to sleep and eat Castiel’s thigh. He began to drift off and lick the wound  he’d already made, but Cas shook him.

         “Awaken,” Castiel commanded. Dean was immediately awake. He was also sweating and shaking. His mark throbbed and he felt heat in his foot from where he had taken to keeping the first blade, wrapped in  its yellow cloth between his book and sock. The heat gradually became unbearable; he had to take the blade from his boot, unwrap it and hold it in  his right hand where it belonged. He desperately wanted  to be free of their hold on him.

         “Help me, Cas. Now. I need to kill and I don’t want to kill an angel. Or you.” Sweat poured down his face, which was red and burning up. “Please, Cas? Please?!” he begged, looking up at his angel with such total faith.

         He found himself in the playground where Crowley had taken him for his first kill. It was approaching dusk. The little children had all gone home, and a pickup game of  basketball took their place. Dean hadn’t noticed that the park turned into a basketball court at one end. Or maybe it hadn’t done when he had been there before.

         A couple of teenagers were standing under a tree, smoking pot. Crowley had never let Dean go this long without a kill when the mark and blade were calling. Dean didn’t care who he killed; it just had to be someone, and fast. Blood was beginning to leak out the corners of his mouth.

         “What the fuck you doing here, old man? You sick? You look like” Dean grabbed the teenager and shoved him against the tree. “You some sort of perv—” The other boys had been watching, terrified and entranced. They ran when Dean grabbed the teen’s shoulder and turned him around, facing the tree. He pushed against the boy’s buttocks until there was no space between the two. Dean sighed loudly as he stuck the first blade into the boy’s back. He pulled the blade free and stabbed the boy again and again, pushing himself against the dead boy’s buttocks and moaning until he came in his pants.

          Castiel approached Dean iimmediately, while Dean was still moaning quietly with his hand on his pants over his cock and balls. Cas put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and they were back in Heaven. Not under the tree. They were inside Castiel’s quarters. Much plainer than Crowley’s, but clean and fresh. Two large windows and a patio door were open, letting in a pleasant chill. Though Dean couldn’t feel the chill be he enjoyed the breeze.

         Cas disappeared for a moment, then returned with a thick towel. “Give me your clothes and clean yourself,” Cass ordered. “I’ll wash your clothes while you shower.” Dean felt deflated and utterly humiliated as he undressed and handed his soiled clothes to Cas. He took a long, hot shower, too hot, hot enough to burn his skin. Demons ot half demons, like angels, do not feel temperature, but they do feel pain. Dean couldn’t feel the heat of the water, but he felt agonizing pain as his skin turned red and blistered. He stared at the blisters with a certain fascination and satisfaction.

He found a large soap in a nook in the tub. It was obviously Castiel’s soap, and Dean felt embarrassed about using  it, under the circumstances. But it felt indescribably good, if painful, to be clean.

When the water had cooled down until his skin no longer blistered, Dean turned it off. He had meant to towel off, but instead he found himself sitting in the tub, leaning back uncomfortably against the faucet, holding his knees to his chest and sobbing. Every now and then he snorted loudly, swallowed, and continued sobbing. Eventually the sobs ran out, like the hot water, and gave way to tears. Dean was thoroughly and completely exhausted. He curled up on the bottom of the tub in a fetal position, almost putting his thumb in his mouth.

Castiel helped Dean out of the bathtub and stared silently at the blisters. He opened a closet, and exchanged the terry cloth bathrobe he had planned to offer Dean for a soft robe of brushed cotton, and led him to his ascetic, white single bed. Dean took off his robe and dropped it on the floor. Castiel silently picked it up and put it with the towel in a neat pile by the door. He wondered if she hould heal the blisters covering Dean’s body. He decided to leave them as they were for now.

Dean looked around, frankly curious about Castiel’s home. The floor was beautiful; freshly waxed hardwood made from several kinds of trees. The walls were all white, as were the door and windows. An austere desk, also painted white wood, was so bare there was almost nothing on it to indicate usage, let alone speak of the occupant's personality.  A white chair sat pushed under the kneehole. In short, the room said nothing about the man who lived there, other than he preferred simple to ostentatious. After Crowley’s excesses, Dean felt as if he were in a monastery.

         Dean slid into the bed, found the sheets and comforter surprisingly comfortable, and curled up into a fetal position against the wall. Castiel got into bed behind him, careful of the blisters. He rested an arm on Dean’s shoulder and let it fall so it was barely touching Dean’s blistered chest. He kissed the top of Dean’s head and let himself fall asleep. Angels don’t need to sleep, but every now and then they can decide to. Castiel had a deep need to let his subconscious play out the past few hours in dreams. Dean’s slow regular breathing joined Castiel’s long deep breaths in sleep.

         Dean and Castiel had quite a lot of serious talking to do, but it could wait until they woke up. Dean had unconsciously wrapped his hands around Castiel’s hand, making Castiel smile in his sleep.


	8. It's Not My Cross to Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter consists mainly of a discussion of Christian theology. I am not a Christian and in places I'm sure I have been way off off base. I imagine I've made many mistakes, all of which have been entirely unintentional. Please realise I am not trying to offend anyone. I deeply apologize to anyone I may have unintentionally offended with my ignorance and my hubris in writing about a religion I know almost nothing about.
> 
> Dean and Castiel take a walk through Heaven and realize they have more in common than they thought.
> 
> The two carry on a long conversation as they walk, and manage to fill in a few theological gaps.
> 
> Perhaps most importantly, Dean helps Castiel find his sense of humor! Who knew?!
> 
> The chapter ends on a sweet note. Life's been hard on Dean and Cas, and will be again, so I thought I'd let them have some fun.

**I have not come, yeah, to testify**   
**About our bad, bad misfortune**   
**And I ain't here a wonderin' why**   
**But I'll live on and I'll be strong**   
**Cause it just ain't my cross to bear**

**- Gregg Allman, The Allman Brothers**

 

When Dean woke up, he felt terrible. Here he was in Heaven, snuggled close to Castiel. An angel. He used to call him “his” angel. But when he remembered all the Mark and the first blade had made him do, he knew he didn’t belong in Heaven. Good people went to Heaven. Not killers. Especially not pervert killers He felt as if he’d piggy-backed a ride to Heaven with Castiel. If he really deserved to be in Heaven when he died, he wanted it to be his on own strength of body and soul. Body, possibly. Soul, not so much.

         “Don’t worry, Dean. Heaven doesn’t work that way. It is open to all. Everything is forgiven.”

         “Jesus Christ Cas! I know you can read my mind, but now?! These are private thoughts. How can you even sleep in the same bed as me? I’m containing, no, that’s not it. Contaminating. I feel like I’m contaminating you just by being here.”

         “You are not contaminating me, Dean. Had I known how you felt about private your thoughts, I would have stopped listening. There are no secrets in Heaven. I had forgotten that you are not an angel. I am truly sorry.”

         Dean snorted. “ _You’re_ sorry _._ What the fuck do you have to be sorry about? I would have told you what I was thinking anyhow.”

         “I would like to take a walk while we talk about this. Heaven is very beautiful.”

         “Fine.” Dean put on his clean socks, socks that had been cleaned by Castiel.

         They walked outside into a lovely fall-like day in the ‘50s, which neither of them could feel. However there were trees and trails everywhere, an overall sense of beauty and tranquility.

         Dean stopped thinking and began chewing at his fingers. “How the Hell can I deserve to be in Heaven after what I did?

         “Dean, I have done far, far worse. How many lives have you taken?”

         “Geesh. I have no idea. If I estimate three a day; sometimes only one or zero, other times over five, and I’ve been a hunter around twenty years, that would be about, um,” He searched his pockets for a paper and pencil.

         “Almost twenty-two thousand. I think your estimate is two high, but that makes no difference. How many lives do you think I’ve taken, Dean?”

         “I have no idea. I guess it’s more than me, or you wouldn’t bring it up. Ummm, what did we say, I’ve killed around 20, 25 thousand? God, Cass, I have no idea. Around a hundred thousand?”

         Castiel actually laughed, but with an odd intonation Dean couldn’t understand. “You know how old I am.”

         Dean thought no, he hadn’t any idea how old Cas was. But he kept it to himself. He wanted to hear what Castiel was saying.

         “Counting only the wars I have fought in, including the ones I started, I would estimate somewhere over a million.”

         “No way,” said Dean.

         “Oh, yes way. I am far, far older than you. When I was young and idealistic, I often thought war was the best option.”

         “What about now?” Dean asked, still amazed.

         “I try to avoid killing, but sometimes it is the only option. As for starting wars, you’ve seen how effective that has been. Most angels think of humans as far less important than angels. Taking lives must be easier to live with when you consider your opponent inferior. Similar, I think, to the human sport of deer hunting. I could never understand the appeal of using tactical advantage to kill a deer for fun. But deer hunters are apparently much more upset if they accidentally kill a human than intentionally kill a deer. Being an angel, it is hard for me to judge. I value deer and humans alike, and see no pleasure in killing either for sport.”

         “Yeah, but one million kills?!” said Dean.

         Castiel sighed. “Do you ever listen, or do you prefer the sound of your own voice? I was trying to explain something important to you, but it seems I have been talking to myself. Dean      , do you not remember at the beginning of this conversation I told you it does not matter how many you have killed or hurt. It just does not matter. Heaven forgives all. Unlike Crowley, I bring your victims to Heaven. Not as good as returning the rest of their lives, but I cannot do that. They are forgiven, too.”

         “So if everyone’s forgiven, how come Heaven’s got a jail? Ain’t that what Purgatory’s for? And how come there’s a Purgatory or Hell at all? If everybody gets forgiven in Heaven, why don’t everybody go there in the first place?”

         “Pay attention, Dean,” Castiel said in a voice similar to Crowley’s. “This is fundamental.”

         Dean shivered to hear Castiel and Crowley use the same word, in the same tone of voice. Again, Dean was struck by the similarity of angels and demons. It was getting harder to keep from mentioning this to Castiel, but he was afraid he’d make Castiel so mad he’d throw him in Hell. From Heaven. In the place that everything’s supposed to be forgiven. In some ways, it was easier living with Crowley. At least he was open and honest about being a superior bastard. Castiel never lied, but he seemed to circle around the truth a lot. They both made a big point out of making sure Dean knew that neither of them actually lied. That was probably true. Still. Dean was beginning to understand that being as honest as possible was, in fact, fundamental. Without it, there’d be chaos.

         Crowley thought Dean was amusing when he talked like this. He didn’t know what to expect from Castiel, but it probably wouldn’t be humor. Dean wasn’t used to thinking this hard. It hurt his head. He realized that he would like nothing better right now than to go home and have a beer with Sam. He wondered if there was beer in Heaven. Or any kind of liquor. Castiel definitely seemed like a newbie at drinking back on Earth. And where exactly was Heaven? Was Heaven In the sky? Orbiting Earth like the moon? One of the few parts of school Dean had loved was making models of the planets’ orbits. He realized he had no idea where he was. Usually his sense of direction was spot on. But now, he felt completely lost. Fundamentally lost.

         Dean didn’t even know where he was in Heaven. One minute he was walking on the grass, then suddenly he smelled the ocean and felt the waves lapping against his boots and calves. What the fuck? Castiel had told him that Heaven was full of different places, but Dean hadn’t anticipated walking straight from one right into the other. Castiel seemed lost in thought; he’d ask about it later.

         “So that is why Hell and Purgatory exist.” Castiel repeated. “I would destroy both Purgatory and Hell if I could. Unfortunately, I cannot.” Castiel stopped and stared at Dean. “And you have not heard a word I have said. I do not understand why you apparently enjoy my conversation, when you fail to listen to what I say. I feel as if I am carrying on a conversation with myself, which is both humiliating and infuriating.”

         “Hey, congratulations buddy!” Dean said with a big smile. “You feel something, man. You’re mad as Hell at me, but that’s a feelin’. All this time I been spending around angels, they act like they got a stick up their ass. They’re real smart and maybe they understand everything, Earth, Purgatory, Hell. But they never feel anything. Sometimes I think I could do cartwheel while singing my least favorite song, and all you’d do is ask “Why are you doing that? I do not understand.” Because it’s funny, dude. Sam and I used to make each other laugh all the time. No one laughs in Heaven. Or Hell for that matter.

         “Ya know, the longer I hang out with angels and demons, the more they seem the same. I mean angels are good and all, but I’m in love with a guy, loving a guy, that right there is a new one for me; it would never happen on Earth. But I am. I’m in love a guy, an angel, for Chris sake, who’s killed over a million people. Probably the same amount of people die from being sick. So, you know, the angels kill us off for their own reasons, they don’t really care about us; we’re the deer. Demons get a kick outta watching people die. In pain, Really bad pain. Angels don’t like it, but they kill anyhow. When you get right down to it, there ain’t all that much difference. Angels don’t give a damn about us and neither do demons. Seems pretty similar to me.”

         “Not entirely,” Cas said.

         “Whatever. And if Heaven’s so forgiving, then why don’t everyone just go straight to Heaven? Is it like going to church; you can’t be saved or forgiven unless you’re in a certain place? Like you can’t be forgiven and go to Heaven unless you’re already in Heaven? That don’t make sense, and it’s definitely not fair. I’ve been to Purgatory and Hell through no fault of my own, and I ain’t even dead. If I were, I could stay stuck there forever, unless I was lucky enough to be saved by an angel. And I get the feeling that don’t happen too much. So if everyone is forgiven in Heaven, why is there a Hell and Purgatory at all? Hello? You there, Cas? You ok?”

         “I am confused. I do not think I know you as well as I thought I did. But I can answer your question. Lucifer. Lucifer and his games.”

         “Huh?” Dean said. “I don’t get it. What games? Like he plays Catch Me if you Can, but with dead people? The ones he catches go to Purgatory or Hell, and the ones that get away go to Heaven?

         “Dean, I am very impressed with your logic. That is more or less correct, except for certain details you could not possibly know about.”

         “Hey, dude. I know more than you think. The Bible got it all wrong. I know about demons, the first demon. He wasn’t evil back then. He was the son of Adam and Eve. And that’s why they were kicked out of Eden. Not cause of some stupid apple. Because they had a son. A hideously ugly son. And you know what they did to him? Right after God kicked them out of Eden? The got away from him as fast as they could. Their own baby. The first demon. That’s where demons come from. Angels. Weird. And that’s where Hell comes from. The first demon. He built it kinda like a play ground, a doll’s house, and a haunted house, all squished together. All cause he was lonely.

         “Course Hell didn’t stay like that. Somewhere along the line it got huge and ugly and evil. Very evil. And when Lucifer got sent down there, for no good reason far as he could tell, he was really pissed, and that made it even worse. Being hated by his parents, wanting or needing a place of his own. Lucifer was like the very first demon, he was abandoned by his parents, his own parents, who just happened to be angels. Kinda explains why demons and angels have so much in common.

         Castiel was starting at Dean, his mouth hanging open a little. “How do you know all that?”

         “Some of it from Crowley. Some I figured out for myself. Except you interrupted me before I could get to the good part. I mean, I know God kicked Lucifer out of Heaven cause he was, what are they called again? Sounds like pacifier.”

         “Pacifist.”

         “Right. God kicked Lucifer out of Heaven cause he was a pacifist. He got tired of killing and wouldn’t do it no more. Now my dad’s a Marine, sorta like the head of wars up here. He ain’t no pacifist, and he didn’t raise me to be one either. But even Dad knew not every fight’s a good one. So Lucifer didn’t wanna fight that war anymore. He couldn’t help being a, what’s that word, being a pacifist. That don’t make him evil. Don’t sound like a reason to kick him out either. Sounds like a reason to, I don’t know, maybe learn something from the dude? Except here’s the real kicker. Lucifer didn’t even make Hell. It was already made. And all this shit about Heaven forgives everything? Don’t sound like God was so forgiving to Lucifer, who didn’t even think he done anything wrong. That's the problem. Whatever we do, angel, demon or human, we're just a sneeze to God. That’s the whole point. It all comes down to some ugly little kid with nothing to do and no one to be with building himself a playhouse. A fucking playhouse! And God don't give a shit. Now that’s what I call fundamental.”

         Castiel shook his head and said “You are a conundrum, Dean. If you do not know that word, look it up. I misjudged you. You see connections you do not understand, and you think about them until you have made a logical conclusion. Frequently the correct conclusion.”

         The angel kicked a small rock with his bare foot. Dean hadn’t noticed Castiel was barefoot. He also hadn’t noticed that the sand had turned to grass, and that the smell of ocean had disappeared. It looked really comfy in the long grass. Dean was tempted to take off his boots and socks, but he couldn’t. That’s where he had taken to wearing the first blade. He even brought it into the bathroom and kept it close when he showered. By now, he began bleeding from all his orifices if he so much as forgot to leave it by the side of his bed.

         “Hey Cas, I’m kinda tired out from all this talkin’. Is all of Heaven like this? Think we could find somewhere to sit down?”

         Castiel smiled. “No, all of Heaven is not like this. Every angel, human, whoever who comes to Heaven creates whatever space they want. Some day I’ll show you my Heavens.”

         “You mean you got more than just your house and this grass?”

“I can have infinite space, wherever I like. We all can. Heaven goes on forever, but in infinite directions.”

         Dean looked a bit green. “That’s not like infinite tesseracts, is it?”

         Cas actually chuckled. “No. No tesseracts unless you want them. When I give you the tour, I will try to keep away from the infinite tesseracts. You must use great care while walking near a tesseracted area. Not all of them are marked.”

         Dean stared at Cas. “Did you just make that up? To scare me, or to be actually funny?”

         “Yes, I made up the entire concept. I thought you would enjoy it. I am sorry if I frightened you.”

Dean started laughing and, miraculously, Cas joined in.

         “If we keep walking straight, we’ll come to the Abandoned Pagoda.”

         “There’s an abandoned pagoda in Heaven?”

         “We refer to it as the Abandoned Pagoda, partly to because the name is humorous and partly because we really do not know what else to call it. You will see it soon. And I promise it does not contain any tesseracts.” Castiel stopped and said “Here we are.”

         “Whoa. This is the Abandoned Pagoda? Whoa.”

         Dean had good reason to be overwhelmed. The pagoda was actually two huge old growth trees, grown together in such a way that they created a flat round area, just a few feet above the ground. About ten feet up from the natural floor created by the trees, the trees reunited and spread their branches to they formed a round roof. Above the roof, the trees intertwined and seemed to grow upward for miles. It did, in fact, look quite similar to all natural pagoda.

         Dean ran to the tree like a kid and was lying on his back, hands locked under his head, in about three seconds. Castiel followed him at a more sedate pace.

         “You know you miss the beauty of the wood,” Castiel told Dean as he reached the floor. He lay on his back next to Dean, who moved his arms from under his head, so he could hold Castiel’s hand. Cas immediately removed his hand and sat up next to Dean,

         “What’s wrong?” Dean asked, sitting up to face Dean.

         “Nothing. Nothing is wrong.” Castiel folded this arms again, then folded them a bit higher on his chest.

         If Dean didn’t know better, he could swear Castiel was nervous.

         “Whass up? He asked.

         “We are,” Castiel said. “Uh, and, um, certain parts of my anatomy. My vessel's anatomy,” Cas said, flushed from blushing.”

         “I seem to find myself in the same predictimint.”

         “Predicament.”

         “Whatever. We could do something about it, if you like,” Dean said, staring Cas in the eyes. They were surprisingly large, and a beautiful shade of azure. Cas smiled.

         “But before that,” Cas said, “there is something I would like to do. If you are amenable.”

         “I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t be amemable to with you, unaware of his mistake. Cas decided to let it go.

         “Would you like me to restore your body to the state it was in before your shower?”

         “You mean you could have done that anytime?”

         “Yes. But I hoped that if I waited, you might learn about the consequences of your actions.”

         “Oh, I learned all right. Anytime you want, Cas,” Dean answered.

         Castiel leaned forward and put his index fingers on Dean’s forehead. Almost immediately, Dean’s body was healed. “Oh man, I hadn’t realized how much those blisters hurt. I don’t know what to say.”

         “Thank you would be appreciated.”

         “Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank -”

         “I think that is sufficient,” said Castiel, with an uncharacteristic smile.

         Dean smiled at Cas. “You’re really happy here, aren’t you?”

         “Sometimes,” Cas responded. “I am very happy right now,” he added, and gently kissed Dean on the mouth.

         “I’m pretty damn happy, too, Dean said, then returned the kiss with great enthusiasm. Castiel was quite enthusiastic, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear with me; there may be a rather long gap between this post and the next. I know where the story is going and I know how it ends. However there a a few spaces in between that need to be filled before I can start posting again.
> 
> The missing pieces will come to me, they always do, but the question is when. I don't know. My muse took off quite a while ago without even saying goodbye, so I have been left to write this all on my own.
> 
> Even if it takes a while, please don't give up on me or the story! We're coming back, really. We just need some time to think.
> 
> Thanks so much for your patience.


	9. Knock Knock Knockin' on Heaven's Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean realises that there is more to Heaven than mere, unadulterated joy. He also finds new sides of his friend which he'd never known existed.
> 
> Castiel and Dean run into in the wonders and the terrors of heaven.
> 
> Castiel encourages Dean to make a final decision about the Mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It suddenly occurred to me that I've been Incredibly Rude to people who are reading my story and leaving kudos.
> 
> I haven't found a way yet to message people individually, so I have to thank you all at once. I won't replace all you, though! :-) 
> 
> So, many thanks and kudos to:
> 
> destieljunkie, who has been my AO3 mentor and a wonderful friend
> 
> The ImpossibleFanGirl, for sticking with my story for so long
> 
> ThursdaysAngelCastiel, for sticking with me and also for writing so many short, fun stories to read after the hard bits of Cynophobia
> 
> 1983Sarah, for following me
> 
> Taste_of_Suburbia, for suddenly showing up!
> 
> And of course all the Anonymouses, wait; that sounds like "Hey nonny nonny mice.” What about Anonyi? Nah, it sounds like an island in the Bermuda Triangle or the movie Avatar.
> 
> Thanks to all the anonymous people for reading my story and leaving kudos.

**Mama take this badge off of me**   
**I don’t need it anymore**   
**It’s getting dark, to dark to see**   
**I feel I’m knocking on Heaven’s door**

**\- Bob Dylan**

           

 

         Breakfast was not the best time in Dean and Castiel’s day. Dean didn’t particularly enjoy eating alone, and Cas found it a waste of time to watch Dean eat, so he generally used his laptop. Dean couldn’t get over how the web was available in Heaven, let alone how computers and smartphones and probably iPads worked without electricity. Dean assumed iPads worked too, although neither of them had one; Cas because he didn’t see the point and Dean because he couldn’t afford it.

         In fact, the phone Cas gave him years ago to reach him had stayed fully charged the entire time Dean had been in Heaven. He asked Cas about it once, but the answer was simultaneously esoteric and extremely complicated. Dean stopped listening and began eating his breakfast again. Generally the two got along very well, but it annoyed Castiel no end to find he was suddenly speaking to himself about something which he already knew. Hi responses usually followed the same escalation: “Please listen when I talk,” “Pay attention. I am talking to you,” “Dean, listen to me!” or “You are the rudest person I have met. Why I fell in love with you is a mystery.” Maybe it was the demon in Dean or maybe it was just his personality, but he’d laugh and stop listing to Cas’s tirades about Dean’s not listening.Once Castiel became so angry at repeatedly trying to explain how cell phones worked in Heaven that he slammed his fist on the table, sending Dean’s eggs into his lap. “Thanks,” Dean replied, sarcastically, as he returned the eggs to the plate, brushed off his thighs, and continued eating. He gave Cas a funny look when he got up and his pants were entirely clean. “How many times have I told you, Dean, there is no concept of dirty in Heaven. I will not have you embarrass me by-” Castiel was cut off by a passionate kiss.

         The two shared many kisses, fooling around, occasionally making each other come with hands or mouths. Dean always was the one to instigate any below the waist touching. Castiel enjoyed the sex quite passionately, but he always seemed to freeze up for a moment before relaxing into the situation. Dean wondered if it was some sort of angel PTSD. He was also becoming very frustrated. He didn’t know it was possible to be sexually satisfied and frustrated at the same time.

        Generally mornings were not the time for sex. Most mornings, Cas took Dean for long walks to some of his favorite spots in Heaven. Cas often returned to the beautiful impressionist garden created by the boy with autism. The boy couldn’t use words but his expression, smiles and friendly gestures indicated he loved their visits.

Sometimes they went to the Abandon Pagoda. Once they took a path in a flower garden, under a bright sun, only to take the next step into what looked like a tunnel but was actually a cave. As usual, Dean looked over his shoulder to see that the previous place they’d walked through was intact. He couldn’t get over the existence of infinite Heavens, and kept asking Cas to explain. Uncharacteristically, perhaps because he was enjoying his walk and didn’t want to be interrupted, Castiel stopped where he stood. It took Dean a surprisingly long time to realize he was alone. He turned around and returned to Castiel. “Hey, don’t just stop without telling me. I was talking to myself. I felt like an idiot.”

         Castiel laughed out loud, something he hardly ever did. He looked Dean straight in the eyes, and said “I love you, kid, but will you _please_ shut up and stop asking me the same question over and over. It is obvious that you do not understand my answer. If you are that curious, all you need to do is wait until you are dead. It all makes sense to angels; I hope that when you die and return to Heaven, you will understand. I _really_ hope that. The prospect of spending infinitely with an idiot does not appeal to me.”

         Dean’s jaw actually dropped. He thought that was just an expression. He was astonished that it really happened. Castiel almost crushed him with a bear hug. “I am so sorry, Dean. I know I am irritable at times. But that was beyond rude, even for me. I love you and should never speak to you like that. Besides, your stubborn ignorance is very endearing.” He nibbled at Dean’s neck, and took his hand. Dean filed away for future reference that Cas found his ignorance to be endearing. Or maybe it was being rude to Dean that turned him on.

         In any case, the walked slowly into the darkness of the cave. They were near enough to the entrance to make out some stalagmites and stalactites. The path took a sharp turn, and all light disappeared. They were surrounded by total darkness. Castiel was thrilled; he loved this cave with its complete darkness and series of pools. Dean did a quick 180 and literally ran back to the point where he could see the entrance to the cave.

“Caves are actually quite safe. And I assure you the bats are asleep,” Castiel said, with a smirk that Dean could not see. Dean stood outside the mouth and waited. “You really dislike caves?” Castiel shouted on the way back when he noticed Dean was not following him. “Further in, there are pools.”

         “I think I’d rather swim in a pool of lava,” Dean replied. “This cave is so dark and almost immediately branches off into about ten different paths and I have zero desire to be lost underground in total darkness. In fact, make that less than zero.”

         “Oh. Had I known you were afraid of the dark, I never would have taken you here unprepared. Next time we go caving we can wear protective helmets with built-in waterproof flashlights. They are very handy for swimming in underground pools, as well as lighting the inside of the cave to get a better took at all the nooks and crannies.”

         “I’m not afraid of the dark,” Dean protested, embarrassed that it was true. “I just don’t like caves. Next time **you** go caving **,** I’ll find a grassy, sunny spot somewhere, lie on my back, and enjoy the open and sunny field. The sunny large field.

         Castiel chuckled. Dean’s company had definitely helped open up Castiel’s sense of humor, as well as his sexuality and many emotions, some of which were news to Cass . Dean wondered if all angels had hidden emotions, or just Cas. Probably just Cas. He was definitely not your run of the mill angel.

         One of Dean’s favorite parts of Heaven were rain and thunderstorms. He couldn’t feel their temperature, but he could feel the rain on his body. He especially liked thunderstorms at night. Lightning always seemed to immediately follow thunder, and Dean loved to tip his face up and feel the rain. It seemed like he could feel the lightening and thunder, too. One evening he and Cas went looking for a storm in the night. They had to pass through many Heavens to find what they were looking for, but it was worth the walk. Dean was absolutely delighted, like a child.

         “Cas, we walked through about 20 people’s, I mean angels,’ little slices of Heaven. Isn’t that rude? What if they saw us?”

         “Well, if someone really did not want visitors, he could surround his Heaven with a tall fence, complete with a door and lock. I personally have never seen such an uninviting place in Heaven; most angels are friendly, plus many of us are psychic and know intuitively to leave certain areas alone. It is much more common to see a low stone wall, such as the one at the Abandoned Pagoda. Such walls indicate the occupant would like you to ask permission before entering. The vast majority of Heavens have no walls at all, and angels may pass through them whenever they like.”

         “So why is it so empty in heaven? I figured it would be overflowing with angels and dead people.”

         “Dead people, as you put it, live in a different part of Heaven. They remain in their vessels. I’m wearing his vessel for your sake. Most angels prefer their incorporeal form while in Heaven.”

         “Well don’t go making yourself uncomfortable on my account,” Dean said, although actually it would bother him considerably not to be able to see, feel, hear, or touch Castiel.

         “I do not choose my form entirely for your benefit. I have decided to remain corporeal for now. In fact, there are certain benefits to this form which are impossible in my other form. Certain activities that can only be performed in human form.” Cas sounded almost lascivious. _Very weird day_ , Dean thought.

        “Would you like to try?” asked Castiel.

         “Uh, try what? The benefits of human form? Like sex? I don’t think we’ve been having to try too hard on that account. I’m just saying’ ”

         Castiel chuckled for what must have been the fifth time that day. _What the hell is going on today?_ Dean thought.

         “Maybe later. I mean would you like to see how it feels to be incorporeal?” Castiel said.

         “You bet,” Dean answered. Suddenly his body was gone. Dean felt like he was tripping. There were so many streams of light: alone, in groups, probably talking intravenously _,_ Dean thought.

         Dean was interrupted by another chuckle. What’s with him today?

         “I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed being incorporeal,” Castiel said. “We speak psychically in this form. Not intravenously. No exchange of blood involved.”

         “Oh. This is as weird as the cave,” Dean said physically.

         “You find this _frightening_? I do not understand. We are surrounded by the most beautiful sight I have ever seen,” Castiel responded aloud. “You must be very tired. This is hard on the body at first. I think we should go back home now.”

         “Not frightening, just overwhelming. Going home is fine by me,” said Dean, who was beginning to feel a little sea sick.

         “Well that was a trip,” Dean said.

         “A trip? We did not take a trip. Perhaps you were disoriented. It is generally disorienting, the first time one experiences incorporeality.”

         “Damn that word again. The first time you go what, again?”

         “Incorporeal.”

         “Right,” said Dean. “Sam always knew the big words. I was better with a gun; he was better with a laptop. I wonder what he’s doing now.”

         “He’s at the library,” Castiel said. “trying to find out more about what you’ve become and where he can find you. His laptop’s being repaired.”

         “Uh, thanks. My question was rhetorical, but thanks.”

         “Where did you learn that word? It seems out of place in your vocabulary.”

         “Crowley,” Dean answered in a defiant tone. “Say something like that again and I’ll punch you out.”

         ======

         Dean’s mood suddenly changed. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked, in a totally different tone of voice. Hesitant. Almost but not quite scared.

         “Of course,” Castiel said. He hoped that he was wrong about what Dean wanted to talk to him about, but feared he was correct. There were two bottles of beer on the desk/table. Dean still had no idea how Cas did this; maybe some quantum mechanics Sam was always talking about, but whenever Dean asked for food, it was on the table waiting for him. Sometimes, when he was thinking he’d really like a cheeseburger, one would appear on the table. And sometimes, when it hadn’t even occurred to him that he’d like something to eat or drink, he found a bottle of beer on the desk.

         Dean downed the first beer in two swallows.

         It would have been easier if Cas had started the conversation, but he patiently watched Dean garner up the ability to speak first.

         “So here’s the thing,” he started. “You know ever since I’ve been here, I barely feel like a demon at all. I hardly ever feel like killing. Only when the mark and blade call so loud I can’t ignore them. And that don’t happen much anymore. But my ankle is burning up from the blade and the mark feels like it’s on fire. I know you hate this, but could we take another trip back to Earth for me to, you know, satisfy the Mark and Blade?”

         “No,” Castiel answered. “I will not aid your killing in any way. If it is that important to you, I will take you to Earth and leave you there. But I will not come when you call, speak with you, or even acknowledge your existence.” Cas looked sad but determined.

         “Geesh, that’s a little harsh. You told me once you’d killed over a million souls. I haven’t killed anything like that many.”

         “I also told you I was done with killing, unless I had no other choice. I do not see killing to satisfy your Mark and blade as an unavoidable choice.”

         Dean actually started to cry from frustration and fear. “What’m I gonna do?” he asked, blood trickling out of his eyes, ears and mouth. If I keep on ignoring the Mark and blade, I’m gonna die.”

         “Yes.”

         “What, have you suddenly stopped loving me? Is this your way of kicking me out?” Dean wiped his face with the back of his hand, which resulted in spreading blood all over his face. “I don’ wanna leave you, ever, and I hate killing, but I don’t got much choice in the matter. Either I’m gonna kill someone or I’m gonna die.” He leaned over and coughed blood onto the floor as if to prove his point. He didn’t realize, but his eyes had turned demon black for the first time since he’d arrived at Heaven.

         “No. I do not want to leave you; you know that. The rest is true. But there is another way.”

         Dean was shaking and could feel blood dripping from his cock and ass.

         “I realize this will be very hard on you, but if you no longer bear the Mark of Cain, the first blade will be nothing more than the jawbone of a very old jackass.”

         “You mean you could have done that any time, and you intentionally left me to suffer?”

         “No. I couldn’t have done anything about it. I cannot remove the Mark. It has to be you. I will, however, heal you when you have finished.”

         “I have to do it? I have to slice off my own skin?

         “It would not work if anyone but you removed the Mark. I really do not know what would happen if someone else removed it for you. You might kill the person who removed the Mark. You might die and go to Hell. But I can assure you the outcome would not be good.” Castiel hated himself for saying this, and he hated himself even more about saying he’d kick Dean out of his life. That would never happen. Castiel would die for Dean. But he knew of no other way to ensure Dean follow through than to scare him into it. He’d already waited too long.

         Dean took a deep breath and sighed loudly, “All right, then. What do I do?”  
         “First take a drink of this whiskey.” Two shots of whiskey appeared on the table top.

Dean downed the first shot and immediately picked up the second.

         “Stop. I sad one drink. The other is for when you are finished. Your job is very simple. Take the first blade and cut the Mark of Cain off your arm.”

         “Please can I have the other drink? I’m scared to death.”

         Cas thought for a minute, then acquiesced. “You can probably use this. I’ll heal you as soon as you’ve finished, so you won’t need it then.”

         Dean grabbed the glass and downed it in one gulp again.

         “I’m gonna make a real mess here. Do you want me to go outside?”

         “No. I want you to stay here with me. I’ll clean up when I heal you.”

         Dean took the blade from his boot. He took a deep breath and scraped off a large layer of skin. His face was white, as if he were going to faint. “Did I get it?” he asked.

         “No. The mark is much deeper than that. I estimate that you will need to cut another inch deeper.”

         Dean said nothing. He worked the blade in what seemed like an inch deeper. The blade began to shake. _No,_ Dean told himself, and steadied the blade in his hand. With one solid motion, he pushed the blade under his skin to the bottom of the Mark, and dragged the blade a few inches.. Blood poured onto the table. He knew he needed to remove the sides, too, but he was afraid he was going to vomit or faint. He steeled himself for the task. He didn’t hurt right then; he had put himself in shock. He put the blade back in the vertical strip and looked at the sides of the Mark to estimate how far he needed to cut. He sliced through sinew until the felt the blade touch bone. He looked at his arm to see if the Mark was all gone. That was a mistake. He immediately bent over the side of the chair and threw up. Dean knew he was in danger of passing out, so he quickly dug out the right and left of the vertical cut. “D-d-id I g-get it aw all?”

         “Dean, you were remarkable. I cannot imagine the pain. Your strength is one of the reasons I love you.”

         “I don’t give a flying fuck about anything except am I done? Is there more to cut out?” His voice was trembling uncontrollably.

         “You removed the entire Mark of Cain. There is nothing left of it. I imagine you would like-”

         As soon as Dean heard he’d gotten it all, he fainted. The table stopped him from hitting the floor, but he smacked his head on the tabletop. Dean was oblivious to all this. Cas began to gently clean the wound with cloth dipped in rubbing alcohol. Dean screamed in pain, tried to talk, and fainted again.

         Castiel decided enough was enough, and laid two fingers on Dean’s shoulder. The depth of the wound took longer to heal than Castiel had anticipated. He stopped every minute or so to gently kiss Dean’s forehead. Castiel felt like fainting too, but he knew he couldn’t until he was finished healing Dean. When he made sure that the entire Mark was removed, he picked up Dean like a baby and brought him to bed. He pulled down the covers gently, to avoid waking him, but Dean was really out. Castiel made sure Dean’s heartbeat and breathing sounded correct, then slipped into bed next to him. He was way too used up to meditate or even dream. For the first time in ages, he was able to cuddle up with Dean and put an arm around him without fear of hurting him. The blisters had disappeared naturally during the healing. He lay down next to Dean. For a moment he felt how much he loved the man lying next to him, then joined him in utter blackness.

         Dean awoke to an empty bed and a repetitive noise. For the first time in months, he woke not knowing where the first blade was and not caring. He was more interested in the repetitive sound that came from outside. He put on a pair of jeans, knowing he wouldn’t feel the cold anyhow, then realized he probably would actually feel cold, and threw on a shirt.

         The sound was coming from Cas’ backyard. As Dean got closer, he realized the sound was Castiel digging a hole. In his own backyard. Making a God-awful mess.

         “Don’t I have to do that?” he asked Cas.

         “Nope. It makes no difference who disposes of the blade, or where. I assumed you’d be exhausted today, so I thought I’d bury the blade for you.”

         “Thanks. Could I hold it one more time?”

         “Do you need to hold it one more time?

         “Not really. It’s not that. I’m just curious to see how it feels, holding it while it has no effect on me.” Dean paused. “Actually, I want to make absolutely certain it has no effect on me.”

         Castiel looked at him for a moment, then fetched the blade and handed it to Dean. “Uggh!” he said. “It’s disgusting. I have no idea how I used to like it. That is really nasty,” he concluded as he tossed the blade back to Castiel.

         Castiel looked at the hole he’d dug, then at the first blade, which was now nothing other than a very very old jackass’s jawbone. Castiel picked up the blade and dropped it in the hole, sparing Dean having to touch it again. He turned to face Dean. “Would you like to cast the first dirt?” he asked. Asked

         “Nope. I don’t see how it deserves that much respect,” Dean answered.

         “Think about it. Think about how many souls have died from the use of this blade. Think about how many angels and demons and humans you killed with this blade. Now it is useless. Because of the strength you bore to remove the Mark of Cain. I think all that death deserves a bit of respect.”

         “Yeah,” said Dean. “But you had the strength to make me cut out the Mark. You go first.’  
         Castiel took a handful of dirt, held it for a bit longer than Dean expected, then threw it into the hole.

         “What took you so long? Were you praying? For the death of a jawbone?

         “For the souls of all it killed.”

Sometimes Dean seriously wondered why such a beautiful creature as Castiel could possible love him. He sighed, took a handful of dirt, and threw it at the grave, using the force of a very strong pitcher.

         “Fuck you!” he said as the dirt hit the blade.

         “Good,” said Castiel. “Now we’ve both said our prayers.”

         “I’ll finish up if you like,” he told Castiel.

         “How about we finish together?” sad Cas, handing Dean a shovel that appeared out of nowhere. Together they buried the blade, they hoped forever.


	10. lovesong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all.
> 
> This a Happy Chapter.
> 
> If reading about consensual M/M sex bothers you, you might want to skip this chapter.
> 
> I've put rather odd notes in an odd place. Rest assured, as long as my brain supplies me with ideas, there will be more after this. A lot more!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. I noticed the other night that I was being incredibly rude in not thanking everyone who read my chapter, left comments or kudos, or just plain stuck with me.
> 
> This is the sort of section which usually appears at the end of the story. But I am impatient, so here it is, in the middle.
> 
> A big Thank You (!) goes out to:
> 
> Taste_of_Suburbia, 1983Sarah, ThursdaysAngelCastiel, TheImpossibleFangirl, destieljunkie, and all guest readers and anonymous readers.
> 
> If you're reading my story, thank you for making it real. As in, if a story is written but never read, is it still a story?
> 
> If you left a comment, thank you for your help.
> 
> If you left a kudo, thank you for the feedback.
> 
> And if you are reading the story just 'cause, well, just plain thanks! ; - )
> 
> And, I'd be terribly remiss if I didn't give special thanks to destieljunkie, for being my very patient mentor and friend.
> 
> I'm a newbie, so any reading, comments, and kudos are all taken to heart.
> 
> I hope you're enjoying my story, and for those who are, know that this is *not* the end!
> 
> However, I promise this is the last post of its kind. As the dolphins say, "thanks for all the fish."

**Whenever I’m alone with you**  
**You make me feel like I am home again**  
**Whenever I’m alone with you**  
**You make me feel like I am whole again**

**However far away**  
**I will always love you**  
**However long I stay**  
**I will always love you**  
**Whatever words I say**  
**I will always love you**  
**I will always love you**

**\- Robert Smith, The Cure**

         Something had been preying on Dean’s mind lately. Something had been preying on Castiel’s mind lately. They were related but not the same. Dean, ever the one to plunge in first and look back later, took precedence over Castiel’s almost obsessive carefulness.

         “Hey Cas, can I talk to you for a minute?”

         Dean wanted to share a bottle of wine make his question easier to spit out. He wished he had the ability to turn thoughts into reality, like Castiel. He needn’t have worried; Castiel’s psychic connection with Dean produced a bottle of expensive, aged red wine.

         “Would you like to talk on the deck?” Cas asked.

         “Sure,” Dean answered. “Wherever.”

        Castiel could change his view whenever he liked; this time he opted for a beach at sunset. Dean was as amazed by the view as he was to find cheap white plastic and chairs on the deck. He stared at Cas, who responded “They are perfectly adequate and very easy to keep clean. Would you like me to provide something more elegant?” Dean shook his head and sat down on one of the plastic chairs.

         The beach twilight was stunning in Castiel’s little part of Heaven. Castiel sat down and squinted sideways, almost as if he needed glasses. and Dean sighed simultaneously. Cas looked out, squinting slightly sideways, and admired his view. Dean sighed as well

         “This view is remarkable. You can’t see them, but the ocean is full of life. I’ll return them to their real homes the next time I change scenes. Unbelievable, is it not, that God created so much beauty, only to disappear.” Castiel turned to face Dean and said. “You have been uncharacteristically quiet. What do you think, Dean?”

         “You forgot the glasses,” Dean said,, zeroing in on the wine.

         “So I did, Castiel replied with the tiniest of mouth movements that might possibly have been a smile. “Do you have a preference?

         “Nah, paper cups are fine,” Dean answered. He immediately felt terrible, as if he’d just insulted Castiel, and wished he’d asked for something classier. Unfortunately, his knowledge of glasses was very limited.

         Once again, coincidence or psychic connection placed two wineglasses on the table. They were a beautiful shade of violet crystal, and heavily weighted at the base so they’d be very hard to knock over. Essentially two elegant toddler and Dean-proof wine glasses. Dean had a tendency to spill.

         Castiel poured the wine, filing about half of each glass. “What shall we toast to?”

         Dean slugged his down, said “Mmmm. How about good wine? Can I have some more?”

         Castiel actually chuckled. “I believe you are supposed to be sip the wine to determine whether you like it. Apparently you do,” he said, reaching for the bottle. Dean beat him to it, and filled his glass to the brim.

         “Cheers,” said Dean, finishing off about half his glass in one gulp. “Why so glum?”

         “I am not glum,” Castiel replied. “I am thinking.”

         “Me too,” Dean said. “There’s been something I’ve been thinking of asking you.”

         Castiel nodded. “As have I. What have you been thinking of?”

         “Sam,” Dean answered, as he polished off the wine. “More?” he asked Castiel, as he poured the rest of the bottle into his glass. There were only a few inches of wine left. Dean really wanted whiskey, but he assumed he’d embarrassed himself enough tonight, so he stayed quiet.

         “Apparently so,” answered Castiel, who produced a bottle of finely blended whisky, which he set by Dean. He took a sip of his own wine. “What did you want to ask?”

         “Oh, yeah. I miss Sam. I’d really like to see him again, maybe even go hunting.” He paused. “Guess I’d be hunting by myself, huh?”

         Castiel broke into a chuckle. “You think so? Do you still feel like a demon?”

         Dean paused to think about it. “Not really,” he answered. “But 1 never felt muchlike a demon. Even when I had the Mark and Blade. I felt like killing, sure. I had to kill. But I was never quite sure if it was a demon in me, or just me responding to the Mark and Blade, you know?”

         “Show me those black demon eyes,” said Castiel.

         Dean concentrated on anger. It was not difficult. “Are they black?” he asked Castiel.

         “They are the original green that I fell in love with,” Castiel answered.

         “No demon?” Dean asked.

         “None at all,” replied Castiel.

         “I’m free, then?”

         “As free as anyone,” Cas replied. “I hereby pronounce you demon-free.”

         Dean smiled and squeezed Castiel’s hand over the table. He got up, walked over to Castiel, and kissed him. After several minutes, he sat back down and asked “So I’m safe to visit my brother?” Castiel nodded.

         “I want you to come with me,” Dean said. “Can you do that?”

         “I can,” said Castiel, “but I’m not ready yet. I do not know if you are ready, either.”

         “What do you mean, ready?” asked Dean. “I’m not a demon. I love you. I miss Sam. How can I be more ready? What’re you talking about?”

         “Well,” Cas said, in a reluctant tone of voice. “Have you noticed any weddings in Heaven?”

         “Nope. I never thought about it.”

         “Think about it now,” Castiel said, almost an order.

         Dean thought, confused. “I don’t want to get married. I just wanna stay with you and visit Sam.”

         “You don’t need to marry me Dean. What I’m talking about has nothing to do with marriage. It’s more like a union between souls. Souls and bodies. It’s more of a bond. An agreement. An agreement between two angels, or an a human and an angel, whatever. It’s a promise of eternal love. If it’s really important to you, I suppose we could agree on calling it something else. Maybe a promise of love.”  
         “Sounds like a chick flick moment to me,” said Dean,

         “Had I not spent time as a human, I’d have no idea what you were talking about. But I did and I do. This is not what you call a ‘chick flick moment’. Not at all. You really do not understand, do you? Let me put it this way. I love you, Dean. Fully, completely, in every way possible been two men. We need to consummate, Dean. All of it. Not just the sex. All our feelings for each other. Do you follow?”

         “Consommé? Soup? Do we have to drink soup?”

         “You are impossible,” said Castiel. “Consummate. How did you say it on Earth; sealing a deal. But with sexual fulfillment.” As if to demonstrate, Cas put an arm around Dean and kissed him so hard Dean gasped to breathe. Yet his body reacted differently. He wanted more.

         “We need to show each other how we feel. How we belong to each other. Forever. Forever is a long time, Dean. Think about it.”

         “I don’t need to,” Dean responded. “Why would I ever want anybody but you? Besides, I’m not going to live forever, Cas; you know that. What about when I get old and die?”

         “You won’t age if you stay here with me in Heaven,” Cas said.

         “Really? Is that why you never seem to get any older?” asked Dean.

         “It is why my vessel doesn’t age. My true form is ageless. You will age when we visit Earth, but Earth time is pretty slow. I doubt you would notice.”

         Dean stared at the horizon for a while.

         “Really,” Cas said. “The aging will be almost imperceptible. Unless, uh, unless this is your way of saying you would rather not bond with me?”

         “What is this? Some weird form of twenty questions? I love you, Cas. More than I ever expected to love anyone. More than I thought it was possible to love anyone. Except Sam. But that’s different. Plus I get to live forever as part of the deal. That’s not enough?”

         Castiel smiled, half in frustration, half in love. “That is half of what I meant by consummate.”

         “What’s the other half?” Dean asked, topping off his glass from a half empty bottle.

         Castiel sighed. “Can you really be that dense, Dean? Or do you just want to hear me say it?”

         Dean leered. “Both.”

         “Fine. I love you with all my heart, I will never stop loving you, and I want us to join bodies in sexual congress to seal the bond.”

         “Sexual what, now? I thought Congress was part of the government.”

         Cas chuckled. “You confound me. I have no idea whether you truly do not understand, or find it amusing to annoy me.”

         Dean’s eyes suddenly turned dead serious. “So what’s the other half?”

         Sexual intercourse. When we are finished, we are usually pronounced bonded by God, but since he’s disappeared, we will have to do that part ourselves. Do you understand now?” Castiel asked.

         “Yeah. We have sex consecrated by God, but since he’s not here, we consecrate our bond ourselves. And when we’re done, we’re bonded.”  
         “Wow,” said Castiel. “If you always spoke like that, it would save a lot of time communicating.”

         Dean grinned. “Yeah, but if I always spoke like that, I’d never be able to hear you explain it all to me in your beautiful angel voice of yours.”

         “You must be kidding me!” said Castiel, in a raised toned of voice. “Are you saying that all this time, you feigned ignorance just to listen to me explain?”

         “Well, not all of the time,” Dean responded, with something almost wicked in his eyes.

         Castiel burst out laughing. “You are truly incredibly, Dean Winchester.” He grabbed the two glasses and bottles, and walked back to the kitchen. Dean took the opportunity to goose him, which made Castiel gasp and almost drop what he was carrying. “Please not do that again,” said Castiel. “At least not when I am carrying breakable glass.”

         Castiel set the dirty glasses and bottles in the sink, stretched his arm out to grasp Dean’s hand, and took him to the bedroom, which now held a double bed in place of the single.

         Dean smirked. “I see you’ve accommodated the bed to meet our needs.”

         “If you’d said no, it would have been easy to change it back.”

         “I have another question,” Dean asked.

         “You aren’t backing out now?” Castiel looked like he was about to cry.

         “No worries, Cas. I just wanted to know if we take each other’s last names?”

         “Angels have no last name. I would not recommend Dean Castiel. And I have no desire to be called Castiel Winchester. I am quite attached to the name Castiel.”

         Dean laughed. “Good. I like Dean Winchester.”

         “So do I,” Castiel said, smiling.

         Dean removed his boots, stripped off his clothes, and lay down on top the covers. “Enjoy the show?” he asked Castiel, who hadn’t realized he’d been staring with his mouth open.

         Dean laughed. “Come to bed, angel. My angel.”

         Castiel took considerably longer to remove his clothing, which had somehow managed to tangle itself into layers of knots. When he had finally finished, he turned toward the bed to see Dean staring at him.

         “You’re so beautiful,” Dean said. “You sparkle.”

         “Only with of you,” Castiel responded, lying down next to Dean. Almost on top go him.

         Castiel took a deep breath and gently stoked Dean. “I should let you know, this may hurt until you get used to it. I’ll try to be very gentle and do what I can to help.”

         Dean snorted and said “I doubt you could ever do anything to me worse than Crowley’s already done." sk

         Castiel’s eyes turned dark with rage, as he whispered “that bastard. He took your virginity, too?”

         “If you mean being repeatedly painfully fucked up the ass, yeah, he did that.”

         “I should kick that demon in the balls,” Castiel responded uncharacteristically.

         “Don’t get so worked up about it,” Dean responded. “Think of it like this: Crowley’s already done the grunt work for you. He made me ready for you. And man, am I ready.”

         Castiel was in no hurry. Dean wondered if this was an angel thing, or just his angel. He couldn’t wrap his head around that concept. His angel. Cas opened a bedside table drawer and heavily his lubricated\ fingers. Dean moaned softly as Castiel slid his tongue excruciatingly slowly down Dean’s chest, stopping to bite softly on each nipple, which elicited a loud moan from Dean. Castiel bit harder, so hard it divided the line between pain and pleasure, and Dean loved it. Taking his cue from Dean, Castiel took little bites on his chest and stomach, little but hard. The harder he bit, the louder Dean moaned.

         Again, Castiel was in no hurry. He made sure not to touch Dean’s penis, and instead very softly took each ball in his mouth, sucking hard, like a suckling child. Dean was past understanding now, and just moaned, with the occasional “yes” thrown in. He almost came without being touched at all when Castiel inserted one finger at a time into Dean’s ass. Yes, Crowley had probably stretched Dean as far as he could, but Castiel took guilty pleasure in the fact that he had so much more. He realized it was inane, but Castiel felt strangely superior that his angel penis was clearly longer and thicker than the demon Crowley’s. He generously lubricated himself and gently eased into Dean, very slowly.

         Dean was clearly out of his mind with desire as Castiel pushed his way in a little farther with each thrust. Dean lifted his ass as far as possible off the bed, to give Castiel better access. Dean remembered vaguely that there was something special associated with this sex, but he didn’t care. The painful ecstasy took over his body, making thinking impossible. Cas had reached the end of Crowley’s stretching, and though he intended to be very gentle, Dean grasped Castiel’s ass, making Cad push inside him harder and faster. It went against a angel’s instincts to inflict pain, but this pain was clearly inextricable from pleasure. When Dean moaned "Oh Gas, yes, yes, right there, ohh" Cas lost control and came hard, inside Dean. Dean was so ready that he came almost the second Cas touched him. Cas lowered himself onto Dean, the two of them panting together, so in love with each other. Dean figured they must be bonded. Cas said, still panting, "now we are one forever and ever."

.


	11. Soaked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heaven is not always a happy, sunny place
> 
> Pray for Dean's soul

**Soaked to the bone**  
**Sink like a stone**  
**I will take you home**  
**It’s not the first time**  
**It’s not the worse crime**  
**Our souls will be OK**

**\- Matthew Bellamy of Muse, Adam Lambert**

 

 

            Almost immediately after their bonding, Dean began pestering Castiel to come see Sam with him. Castiel kept putting him off. “Soon,” he said. “Give yourself time to settle into our bond.

         “I am settled. Why? Is there a problem on your end?”

         “No, of course not,” Castiel answered. “I love you. I am proud that we are bonded. But there is so much beauty right here in Heaven. I gave you a little push last time you shed your vessel. Now that the mark has been removed and you are bonded with an angel, you no longer need my help in taking incorporeal form. You can travel anywhere you like, with or without me. All of Heaven is open to you.”

         “Well if you keep acting so weird,” Dean said, “maybe I will go  traveling. Is there a reason we shouldn’t go see Sam? He’s not in trouble, is he? Cause he’d need us even more then. Is that it? His stupid pride?”

         “Sam is fine,” Castiel answered.

         An uncomfortable pause followed.

         Castiel dreww a deep breath. “Dean,” he said, “Sam and I spoke on the phone recently, after our bonding. I would never withhold information if your brother needed help. Sam called me to talk.”

            “Why didn’t I get to talk to him? Where was I? You could’ve found me. Or angel-called me. Or told Sam to call back,” Dean said in an increasingly disturbed voice. “What’s going on?” Dean asked. Cas could easily hear the fear under Dean’s bravado. “Stop being so fucking evasive and just answer my question. We’re supposed to share everything when we’re bonded.”

         “Not exactly. We cannot lie to each other. But we can be selective about what we choose to share. Do you really want to know every detail of every part of my day? Are you interested in knowing which porch seat I sat on this morning? Is it important that you know that a button fell off my shirt this  morning, so I saved it for sewing back on later and put on a new shirt? Would it help you to know exactly what time I got out of bed this morning? You know angels do not sleep, so when I am finished meditating, I get out of bed quietly, leave my vessel in the bed, and travel through Heaven in my incorporeal form.”

         “You do?” Dean asked with trepidation. “What if I woke up in the middle of the night and your body was there but you weren’t. Your body wouldn’t be breathing. I’d think you were dead. I’d be in bed with a corpse.” Dean sounded truly shaken, and frightened.

         “No, that would never happen. My vessel would continue to perform basic brain stem activities to remain alive. Also, I would hear you begin to wake up and return to my vessel immediately. I have no desire to frighten you.”

         Dean stopped asking questions and began playing with his fingernails, a habit he had when he was worried. He bit off a piece of thumbnail and looked for a trash bin. Either angels were very neat or they didn’t generate any trash in the first place. He began to get up to look for a trash container in the bathroom.

         Castiel said “There are no trash disposal cans in Heaven. Just leave it on the windowsill and later I will compost it.”

         “What do angels have to compost? You don’t eat or drink or use the toilet. And what do you use it for? You don’t eat.”

         “To answer your first question, we use compost for flowers and other visually pleasing plant life. As for you second question. Our vessels leave a mess. Hairs, tiny flecks of skin that eventually turn into dust. Even in our incorporeal shape we accumulate dirt. Sheds of animal hair; we have quite a few rabbits here. We also accumulate the excrement of  birds and-”

         “OK, Cas. I get it. So why didn’t you let me talk with Sam?”

         “It was not my decision. Sam specifically said he did not want to talk to you.”

         “He did?” Dean asked, and started biting his nails again.

         “That habit grates on my nerves. Can you choose another way of expressing your anxiety?

         “Maybe, but I don’t feel like it. I’m not your marionette.”

         “I never said you were,”

         “What’s going on, Cas? Is this our first fight?”

         “I had not noticed we were fighting.”

         Dean felt like kicking something hard. But there were no hard surfaces on Castiel’s bed, which had remained the same double bed since they’d  bonded.

         “You know I hate it when people talk about me behind my back,” Dean spit out, sounding harder and meaner with each word. “What the fuck is going on here?”

         Castiel paused. “I already told you. Sam does not wish for any further contact with you.”

         “But why? Shit. You’re just as bad as Crowley, with this whole not lying but not telling the whole truth bit. Except Crowley’s a demon so he lies anyhow. But you don’t. So answer my goddamn question. Why the fuck won’t you tell me what Sam said? And don’t give me some stupid answer about angels can’t do this or angels can’t do that. It’s not hard. Just answer the fucking question!”

         Dean was shouting by the time he finished talking. “I mean it, Cas. If our bond means anything to you, anything at all, stop this bullshit and just tell me what Sam said.”

         Castiel drew a deep breath, paused for a moment, and answered. “Sam told me he does not want to see or speak to you, now or in the future.”

         “Yeah. I got that. WHY??!!!”

         “Maybe it would be better if you spoke to Sam directly.”

         “What? Are you suddenly a coward now? You told me about ten times that Sam don’t wanna talk to me. I don’t think he’d be too happy if I decided to call him and ask why. What the Hell is going on here?” Dean climbed out of bed, stepping all over Castiel, and got dressed.

         “As he was sitting, bending over to put on his boots, Castiel replied “I am not a coward, Dean. I was trying to protect you. But that has clearly backfired. I will tell you everything. Just let me get out of bed and dress first.” Cas took forever dressing, fumbling with his pockets and being uncharacteristically clumsy.

         Dean stood leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest, tapping his foot and looking as if he wanted to put Castiel through a meat grinder.

         “I think it would be better if we-” Castiel began.

         “I don’t give a flying fuck what you think. I swear Castiel, tell me now or I’m gonna punch you in the face.”

         “All right. Since that is what you want, I will spell it out for you. Sam called me to find out if I knew where you were. I did, and I told him. You were with me in Heaven. Apparently my answer caused him to explode with fury. His last memory of you was holding you while you died.

         “He suspected but did not know for certain that Crowley had made you a demon and you were living with him. I could not deny this. He asked how you arrived in Heaven. I told him you requested I abduct you from the space ship Crowley sometimes travels in. Sam asked how long ago that happened, and I replied approximately eight months. Two months with Crowley and then six months here with me. Sam was furious at you for not letting him know where you were, and for not protecting him. He had been tortured by demons to find out where you were. He was fortunate that his torturers let him live. I believe they thought you were not important enough to be worth killing.

         “Sam has been risking his life approaching demons in an attempt to find you. Several times he has been caught and suffered terrible consequences until he escaped. Torture by demon did not stop him looking for you. He continued to look he called me for advice. That is when I told him you were safe, in Heaven, living with me.

         “I informed Sam that you were now cured and human again. This enraged him even further. He thought it unfair that you were enjoying life in Heaven with me while he was worried to death about you and being tortured for your whereabouts. He believed, and, Dean, I agree, that you should have called him. Sam said, in these exact words, “if he can’t be bothered to let me know he’s alive, then he’s no brother of mine. If he ever cares enough to ask about me, tell him I consider him dead to me. Tell him if he so much as tries to call me or contact me in any way, ‘I will punch his fucking face in.’  He said he did not blame me and that I was welcome anytime, but not with you.

         “I believe that was the entirety of the conversation.”

         Dean had slowly slide down the wall until till he was squatting on the floor. At some point after Castiel began to talk, he lay his head on his arms, which were still crossed.  A bit later he uncrossed his arms and held his head in his hands. He remained that way until Castiel finished.

         “You’re right, Cas,” Dean said, raising his face so his voice wouldn’t

be muffled by his jacket sleeve. “You did your best. I couldn’t call him while I was on that strange contraption of Crowley’s, and after you brought me here, I felt worse and worse about not having called him until I sort myself pushed it into the back of my brain. Fuck. The only fucking thing I had to do in this world, the only thing, was to watch my little brother’s back, and I fucked up. I should have insisted on talking to him on the phone anyhow, or better yet, just showed up and ignored his reaction. I’m his brother first; everything else comes later.”

         “I’m so glad it took you eight entire months, and the help of an angel, to remember you had a brother,” Sam’s icy voice cut through the air like a very fine blade. “And to wonder how I was doing. How considerate of you.” he spat.

         “Wha? How am I talking to you? How are you hearing me?” Dean asked, thoroughly confused,

         “I may have forgotten to tell you that I called Sam while getting dressed this morning, and left it on speakerphone,” Castiel said, truly afraid of Dean for the first time.

         “My intentions were nothing but good,” he told Dean quietly.

         “I don’t give a flying fuck about your intentions. So when Sam tells you I’m dead to him, you just have to use your goddamn angel instincts to forget to tell me you called him and to leave the phone on speaker. You probably just hurt Sam more than I possibly could have done. Congratulations. I oughta tell Crowley what you did; he’d get a real kick out of it.

         “Do you even realize what you just did? You and Sam are the most important people in the world to me. I’d die for either one of you. You know that. I gotta give you credit, man. You just broke the only two things that matter to me. I can never trust you again, Cas. Ever. But I’m sure you can find another pretty little nubile human to take under your wing. Literally. Sam might get over it eventually. Or not. Man do I wish there were bars in  Heaven. I really need a drink. Cas magically produced a bottle of whiskey, and handed it to Dean. Dean ripped it open and took a huge swig.

        “Maybe this is what you intended all along. To break me. I have no idea why; I thought we were good. But man, it’s pretty low to bring Sam in on it too. What the Hell did you think you were doing? You’ve given me to power to turn incorporeal any time I want. Well guess what. That’s exactly what I want to do right now. And I wouldn’t wait around for me, Cas. Honestly, I don’t know if I’m coming back.”

         With that, Dean and his bottle of whisky vanished.

        This time, it was Castiel who sat with his arms folded on the table and cried. The sweetness of his tears went entirely unappreciated. However, when tears turned to loud, choking sobs, Castiel heard a voice trying to calm him. He had forgotten the speakerphone was still on.

         “You really love him, don’t you?” asked Sam.

         Castiel made a snorting sound and said “Yes.”

         “You ok, Cas?”

         “Obviously, I am not ok.”

         “You think he’ll come back?” asked Sam, with both concern and fear in his voice.

         “I have no idea,” answered Castiel. He began crying again.

         “Hey, Cas, it’s not that bad. Dean and I have had our share of fights and separations before. Dean knows that. He knows I didn’t mean that I renounced him forever…” Sam’s voice trailed off at the end of his sentence. “Do you think he believes that, Cas? Cause no matter how furious I get at that selfish, impudent lout, he’s my brother and I love him. I couldn’t stand never seeing him again. I just wanted him to know how much he hurt me. Do you think he thought I really meant forever?”

         “I have no idea,” said Cas. “I love him very much, Sam. It’s not the same sort of bond that exists between brothers, but a large part of me would wither away and die if I never saw Dean again. Excuse me. I need to cry again.”

         Sam listened impotently to Cas’s grief. Neither of them had any brilliant intuitive revelations on what to do next.

         “Do you want to stay here for a while?” asked Sam. “At least you’ll have a shoulder to cry on that isn’t your own.”

         “I can’t,” Cas choked out. “I need to remain in Heaven, in case Dean returns. Also we have a special bond; often I know where Dean is or what he is thinking. I might be able to find him in Heaven.”

         “How big is Heaven?” Sam asked.

         “Infinite.”

         The two men paused, calculating the changes of finding an invisible incorporeal man in an infinite space.

         “I  should stay here, I guess,” said Sam “in case he comes home.”

         “Yes.”

         “I don’t blame you, Cas. I know you were really trying to help.”

         “Yes. But I failed. I should get off the phone. It interferes with my zeroing on Dean.”

         “Gotcha,” said Sam. “Let me know if you find him,”

         “Of course. You too. Goodbye, Sam.”                 

         There were many reasons Cas preferred to keep his living quarters aesthetic.  He hated mess and clutter, which seemed to surround Dean like moths surround a light. Cas picked up Dean’s dirty boxers and socks from the day before and put them with the laundry. He thought he might have an idea where Dean was, but he wasn’t certain and doubtless Dean needed time to think and in any case would not welcome him with open arms. Castiel sat at one of the two chairs at the desk and let his eyes gently relax to a view of a blank white wall. This was the primary reason Castiel’s rooms were white. They were an excellent environment in which to search, either inside himself or for a person or object outside. He began deep breathing, filled with a white light, and let the part of God inside him, if it was still there, take over all conscious thought.

         There is nothing quite like the experience of travelling while incorporeal to cure anger. Dean started off flying in wild, uncontrolled jerks before he evened out and really looked at Heaven. It was overwhelmingly beautiful in the late afternoon precursor to sunset. At first Dean was happy just to feel the air, smell the grass or mountains or ocean, and take in the stunning . He never could stop marveling at how quickly Heaven changed, to accommodate the desires of everyone who lived there. Which reminded him he probably would be kicked out soon. Another large swig of whiskey helped in the not caring about being kicked out of Heaven. A second large swig mad him almost forget why he was flying through Heaven.

         Heaven looked much more populated in incorporeal form, as that was the form of choice for almost all angels. At first he veered around them; they seemed to Dean like cloud people, and it felt rude to eavesdrop. The song “Hey hey You you get offa my cloud” drifted aimlessly through his mind, although with time and more whiskey be became less angry and more sad. He wondered where the humans who had died and gone to Heaven were; he’d never seen any evidence of a human in either form.

         Dean began to feel seasick darting in and out of other angel’s spaces, until he realized he could pass right through them. He remembered Cas telling him there were no secrets in Heaven. Each angel he passed through was thinking their own thoughts, which Dean heard tidbits of as he passed through: “so worried about Jane becoming an addict again” “sunlight is so gorgeous through the motes of the rainbow” “I should hurry I’ll be late for” “Why would God create and then abandoned such a glorious,” “Did I leave the dryer on hot?” Fortunately, he could tune them out anytime he chose.

         While Dean’s anger dissolved fairly quickly, his deep, fundamental sadness came through as if the emotion were a line of soldiers marching through his brain. With each new tree or flower or building or even a maze that he flew by, the deep sorrow of what he had done weighed on him more and more heavily. Whiskey didn’t help. Sam had plenty of reason to disown him, and although Cas had no personal gripes with Dean, he must have taken in the cruelty and selfishness he had left in his wake.

         Out of the blue, Dean smelled seaweed, and had an overpowering urge to see an ocean. A real ocean. Huge, deep, extending forever as its waves built and crested. He could smell of the salt water, and feel the little pebbles and shells on the bottoms of his feet, and the sound of the waves crashing, almost as vividly as if he were there. The sun had almost set behind a thick layer of grey clouds and grey water that blended so perfectly Dean could not make out a horizon. “Funny,” he thought, “it’s lucky that I’ve found this ocean because that’s where I really wanted to be all along.” Then he crash landed onto the sand as he realized that this was his own ocean, that he had created just by thinking about it.

         Dean’s first thought was that even though Sam preferred the ocean on warm, sunny days, whereas Dean loved it most on cold grey nights, he really wanted to show Sam what he’d made. For a brief second Dean couldn’t wait to share this new ocean with Sam, and then he remembered that Sam had cast him out. He could show Castiel, but Dean had been quite rude to the angel who so valued politeness that further contact was probably broken on that account as well.

         An emptiness as vast as the ocean filled Dean’s heart, thoughts and body. He felt so weighed down that without realizing he’d landed on the beach. His beach. But with no one to share it with, the thrill was half gone. He took another swig of his whiskey. Dean trailed his fingers through the sand as he thought about what he’d lost. He loved Sammy and Cas so much, he literally couldn’t imagine life without them. He took another swig of whiskey and saw the bottle was close to half empty. He took another swig and was impressed at who much he had drank. But it didn’t matter. Dean was so angry at himself, and terrified that he’d finally made a mess he couldn’t undo. He felt helpless; a man of action stripped of his power to act. He had totally broken his relationship both with Cas and Sam. He couldn’t see a way out. He had never felt so powerless. He might not be able to fix what he’d broken, but he realized he could fix himself. He heaved a sigh of relief, and took one more huge swig of whiskey before throwing the bottle onto the sand.

         Dean filled his jacket pockets with rocks from the shore. His jacket  had become very heavy, which was exactly what he wanted. The thought that he might end up in Hell with Crowley forever was faintly amusing. It was either that or he’d find out where all the humans in Heaven were. He shuddered at the thought of finding himself in Purgatory again. But he realized he didn’t really care. Whatever happened was beyond his control.

         At first the water felt very cold as it leaked into his boots and covered his feet. But as he walked further and further in, the cold stopped bothering him. Maybe that demon/angel thing of not really feeling temperature. If he’d thought it through he’d have realized that he was in his human body again and was entering a state of shock. His brain seemed cold too, to cold to think. As the waves splashed his face he did manage to put together a coherent thought: “Do I really want to be doing this?” and then the memories of losing Sam and Cas returned. “I don’t think this can be answered rationally,” popped into his mind, so he kept walking into the ocean until he could taste it and soon smell it, as his nose filled with water. He began to take in gulps of water rather than air. He realized he was in his body again; had been for a while. “Wonder when that” was his last, pedestrian thought as he walked farther and the waves lapped at his hair.


	12. Oh God (prayer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean pushes the limits of being incorporeal and almost drowns.
> 
> Cas realizes the limits of angelic perception and saves Dean's life.
> 
> Dean and Cas are blanketed by a hundred million stars

**Oh god**  
**Now where do I come in?**  
**Gone and broken everything**  
**So I hope you'll understand**  
  
**if someone needed a helping hand**  
**It must be now**  
**It must be now**

**\- Annie Lennox**

 

            Castiel had the worst headache he’d ever experienced in his considerably long life. It started out quiet, like an imaginary bee buzzing outside a closed window. Then the window opened and the buzzing grew slightly louder. Then the bee flew in, bringing along an entire swarm. The swarm buzzed in a circle around Castiel’s head, making him deaf to any other sound. Finally the swarm was buzzing inside his head and he could no longer pretend life was ok.

         When Dean stormed out, Castiel’s natural reaction was to follow him and bring him home. He had spent all of the years of his long life devoted to healing. It went against the grain to sit by and feel, if not see, his partner become angrier and angrier, then more and more afraid and finally sad and desperate. The sound of the bees was almost unbearable. But the most terrifying sound was all the noise fading away until it gradually became silence.

         Time seemed to progress at two different speeds. There was the familiar moment to moment passage of time, as Castiel listened to the buzzing getting louder and louder until he could no longer stand it. Then there was the “everything in my entire past, present and future depends upon the now” time when Castiel realized the freedom he gave his lover to settle down on his own had become an encroaching death sentence. Freedom was useless to the dead.

         Castiel immediately disappeared into his natural incorporeal state, leaving a pile of clothing in his wake. He knew quite well that his initial presumption had been correct. Dean loved the ocean, loved the dissolution of separation until he could no longer distinguish between the grey of the ocean and the grey of the horizon. The problem was, there were an infinite number of oceans in Heaven. No matter. Castiel knew without knowing how exactly where Dean’s ocean was. He also knew where Dean was. Currently he was underwater and drowning. Castiel cursed his natural reaction which had allowed Dean to make up his own mind, but had also robbed essential seconds that Castiel could have used to save Dean’s life. His conviction of morality and free will crumbled like ashes as the minutes left before Dean died clicked away.

         Castiel travelled very fast without a vessel to slow him down. Yet Dean had left his vessel at home, too. “Don’t think like that,” Castiel told himself in his head. “Don’t think at all. Just trust yourself and hurry up!” The admonition became more and more important as Castiel began to lose awareness of Dean. That would only happen if Dean himself lost consciousness, which of course had only one eventual conclusion.

         Maybe because the scent of Dean was receding, Castiel’s subconscious was moving at warp speed. He found Dean’s ocean and realized that the grey on grey, while soothing and Zen-like, also made it impossible to see even the top of Dean’s head, or the eddies he made. As he sunk. As he drowned. As he died.

         Castiel allowed himself a second to stop and focus, and caught sight of something moving under the water. Within moments he was grabbing that something, which proved to be Dean’s leg. The moment he’d hit the water, his vessel had returned. Unfortunately, the moment Castiel touched Dean, he, too, became imprisoned in his awkward body. He grabbed Dean’s legs, lifted his body out of the water and swam faster than possible to the shore. It didn’t feel very speedy to Castiel, but a few seconds later he was laying Dean’s body on the shore. His body felt so different, as if it were boneless and empty.

         Castiel realized instinctively that angelic healing couldn’t bring Dean back to life in his waterlogged body. He had to rely on the brute force of his vessel. Castiel had watched a lot of CPR on television when he was human, and began chest compressions, followed by pressing his ear against Dean’s neck to feel for a pulse. Nothing. He repeated the process over and over, even holding Dean’s nose and breathing air into his mouth, which had been proven useless years ago by researchers on Earth. He kept trying until his lips pressed so hard against Dean’s that their tongues accidentally touched. They both shuddered from the electric shock and Dean’s body arched up for a moment, then collapsed. Castiel knew this movement might be nothing but response to electricity. Yet instinct told him the spark between the two of them had been very powerful.

         The angel concentrated all his healing powers into his hands, and continued the chest compressions until Dean gave a tiny gasp and water gushed out of his mouth. Castiel rolled him on his side and held his head, so that gravity helped Dean expel the seawater. After an agonizing second or two, Dean coughed out mouthfuls of salt water between painful ragged breaths. Castiel kept a hand very gently on Dean’s head, encouraging Dean’s breathing and slowing his own heart’s pounding. When Dean slowly stopped choking and began breathing regularly, Castiel lay on his side on the sand next to Dean,  and felt around for Dean’s hand to hold. He found the hand when it grabbed his wrist and pulled painfully.

         Dean turned to face Castiel and began pounding his face with both hands. Castiel made no move to defend himself. He simply let Dean push him onto his back and lay there while Dean pummeled his face, his chest, his stomach, and every other body part he could reach until he finally ran out of steam, collapsed onto Castiel’s chest, and began to cry. The crying got worse, sounding eerily similar to the choking noises Dean made when he was struggling to survive. Soon he was sobbing uncontrollably, as Castiel held him close and ran his hand through his hair, trying to comfort without intruding on privacy.

         He needn’t have bothered. As soon as Dean could get himself together to speak, he said “I’m sorry. Cas. I’m so so sorry. Can you ever forgive me? I’m such a fucking jerk. I lost my brother,” Dean stopped to wipe a huge trail of snot from his face with the back of his hand. “I can’t believe I lost Sam, please tell me I haven’t lost you, too,” Before Castiel could begin to speak, he felt Dean move so their faces were almost touching. Dean stared hard at Cas, and asked again “Have I lost you too? Cause if I have, I swear, I’ll finish what I started. Life just ain’t worth it without you and Sam.” He snorted again, and buried his head in Castiel’s shoulder. Cas didn’t say a word. He just kept stroking Dean’s hair, holding him tightly with his other arm.

         After a while, Dean risked lifting his head and speaking again. “We ok, Cas? Or did I finally fuck up my last chance?”

         “You have infinite chances. You could never break our bond, even if you tried. Of course I’d let you go, if that’s what you wanted, but I love you. I love you so much. I must have done something to send you away, though I’m not sure what. Please don’t do that again, Dean. Ever. A tiny part of me died, and I can’t get it back. Angels are different from humans. We’re not as resilient. When a part of us breaks, it’s gone. Not physical parts; they’re easy to heal. And our souls, of course, are infinite. I think it’s because we need to learn human emotions. It’s such a mystery, how much you feel without even trying. Learning to feel is hard for me. It opens an entirely new world, but it’s hard to hold onto. Please don’t break my feelings again. I worked so hard for them, I don’t want to lose even one tiny sigh.

         “And if I lost you, Dean, the part of me that loves you would shrivel up and die. I can’t bear the thought of losing you. Or losing my love for you. Please. Stay with me Dean. Please say you’ll stay.”

         Castiel’s eyes were ringed with red. He had no idea he’d been crying. He tried to roll off Dean, but strong arms pulled him back. Back into a kiss, a long kiss, a timeless kiss.

When they finally stopped, Dean said “I love you so much, I don’t know how to tell you. I couldn’t live without you. I don’t know what I’d do without you, you little angelic jerk.”

         “Bitch,” Castiel whispered, and pulled Dean into another seemingly endless kiss. After a while Dean’s mouth fell away and his breathing took on the slow, regular sound of sleep. When Castiel was sure Dean was asleep, he wiped away the fog with his mind, and stared up at the hundreds, thousands, millions of stars? It didn’t really matter how many. Castiel stared up at them for a very long time. There was very little he liked more than staring up at the stars. Except maybe lying on the sand with Dean asleep on top of him while he stared up at the stars.


	13. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up on top of Castiel with a hangover, a blackout, and a big problem
> 
> Castiel shows that being an angel doesn't necessarily mean acting "angelic"
> 
> A lot of salt water and sand in this chapter

**Cause we can’t cross the tracks**   
**We’re like cars on the cable**   
**And life is an hourglass  
 **Glued to the table**  
 **And no one can find the rewind button boy**  
 **So cradle your head in your hands**  
 **And breathe, just breathe**  
 **And breathe, just breathe****

****- **Anna Christine Nalick**** **

 

         Castiel was startled out of his meditation by Dean’s loud proclamation. “What the fuck?” Castiel began to gently rub Dean’s back until Dean shook him off. “Stop touching me, you pervy bastard. And get out from under me, like, now.”

         “The laws of physics dictate that it would be easier for you to move off me, but I’ll try.” Dean’s prodigious muscle weight made him deceptively heavy. Castiel reached for the ground for support, and came up with two handfuls of sand. He finally consolidated all his energy into one point and rolled over, leaving himself face down in the sand, unable to breathe. He sat up, made a rather futile attempt at ridding himself of sand, and looked at Dean, who had sat down opposite.

         “You don’t remember,” Castiel stated.

         “Remember what?” Dean replied, in a petulant tone of voice.

         “Do you remember anything about last night?”

         “I remember waking up just now lying on a stranger. I didn’t know it was you. Sorry.”

         “That’s it. You don’t remember anything about before you woke up.” Castiel spoke in a flat yet vaguely menacing voice that Dean had never heard him use before.

         Dean began to feel anxious. “What? Is there something I’m supposed to remember?” He looked at Castiel and saw the bruises on his face.  “Jeez, man, did I do that?”

         “Yes and no. It’s a tossup between you and the whiskey,” Cas said.  “Remember the whiskey?” he added in the tone of voice he’d use to correct an errant child who’d drawn on the wall with lipstick.

         “Oh shit. I got drunk last night and,” Dean stopped, ashamed. “I guess I blacked out,” he mumbled. “Did I forget anything important?”

         “That depends upon what you consider important.”

         The extraordinary beauty of the sunrise in Dean’s Heaven went completely unnoticed. Castiel was entirely focused on Dean, who was becoming really frightened. “Hey man. Did I do something to hurt you? I mean,” he took a deep breathe which failed to shop his voice from shaking. “I mean, more than those bruises. Did I really hurt you?”

         Castiel huffed. “I don’t know whether the first part of your evening  was remarkable. I wasn’t there. Yes, I’d say the part I experienced really hurt me.” He paused a moment.

         “Actually what you did was extremely painful, but I forgave you. What really hurts,” Castiel opened his wide blue eyes and faced Dean; he was forced to crane his neck back a little. “What feels like demon blades stabbing my stomach isn’t so much what you did, but that you can’t remember doing it. I suppose it’s merely my vessel that feels the tangible pain, but I feel it far more intensely on a deeper layer. Angels can feel pain too, you know.” He continued to stare at Dean’s eyes, which seemed to shift color with the light. Castiel’s eyes were huge and alarmingly blue. He rarely showed them to anyone, preferring to squint sideways into the distance.

         “Yes, Dean. You hurt me. I don’t have words for how much you hurt me. I’ve led armies and killed angels, and I assumed the excruciating pain I felt at the time was the limit of an angel’s endurance. I was wrong.”

         Dean’s face had turned white and he looked as if he might throw up. “Fuck,” said Dean, after a few minutes of silence. “Fuck Fuck FUCK! I can’t believe I hurt you so bad and don’t remember shit.” He looked down at his feet and said very quietly, barely audibly, “I guess it doesn’t matter.”

         “If you kill someone and then take a blow to the head which wipes your memory of the kill, is the person still dead?”

         Dean’s eyes began to water and he instinctively lowered his voice. “Cas, did I kill someone last night?”

         “As I have already told you, I was not with you during the first half of the evening. But I highly doubt you killed anyone. I would have felt it. Did you kill anyone when I was with you? That’s a tricky one.”

         Cas paused a moment to think. “I’d say yes and no. You tried, and very nearly succeeded, to kill yourself. Watching that, feeling a man you love with your entire heart and soul try to take his own life, killed a part of my trust in you. It is dead. It’s never coming back, no matter what excuses or apologies or promises you may make. So don’t bother trying.

         “Whether you also tried to kill me, I cannot say. I was too busy trying to rescue you from drowning to pay attention to anything else. For a while I thought I’d lost you, but obviously I was wrong. And never think that the relief in watching you breathe undid the terror I felt when I did not know if you were alive. That terror took with it an even larger part of me. I do not think I could bear undergoing that experience again.

         “Before you ask,” Castiel glared at Dean, “none of this affects our bond. I have pledged myself to you, I love you, and I will always love you. You almost succeeded last night not in breaking but in irrevocably changing our bond. The only way I know of to break a bond is through death. I came very close to that last night, and I cannot do so again.

         “However much I love you, if you try to kill yourself again, I will not attempt to save you. I will turn my back on you, hurting so badly that I’m not sure whether I would hope you were alive or dead. Even then, were you to die, our bond would not completely dissolve. That will never happen. But the living partner would theoretically be free to take on a second bond. I have never head of  an angel doing that. I very much doubt I would ever want to form another bond with anyone. I had not anticipated that it could cause such pain, so much pain that I too nearly died last night.

         “I am no longer certain who I am, Dean. Has my destiny changed? I honestly do not know. Perhaps some good will come out of this. Naivety, while providing a sense of safety, is dangerous. Maybe you have done me a favor. Maybe the parts of me which you slaughtered may have someday slaughtered millions in war. A war that makes all past wars seem like toddlers fighting over who gets the last bite of ice cream. There is no way of telling. We cannot change the past. Please show me the respect of refraining from trying to sugar coat the damage you caused. No one can sever a bond between two living beings but God, and he has been missing for so long I sometimes wonder if he’s coming back at all.

         “You asked if it still counted if you were in a blackout. I heard your answer, and you were correct.

         “Of course it still counts. It makes the situation worse. Had you killed someone, do you think their family would have cared if you had been drunk? I suspect that only would have added to their misery. They would never know if their beloved would still be alive had you been sober. Trying to convince yourself otherwise would be self-serving and dangerous.”

         Dean sat and stared at the sand, trying to hold himself together in invisible rope, like a scarecrow. He sat like this for a very long time, weighing his options, wondering if it was worth saying anything at all.

         It didn’t matter whether Dean was sorry or not. There was no running away from what he’d said and done. No amount of regret could undo Cas’s pain. How could he have done that? Whisky or no whisky? He knew one thing. He didn’t deserve Castiel, and the angel must know it.

         Dean suddenly had an idea of to change his bond with Cas.

         “I’m in Heaven, right?” he asked Castiel.

         “Yes,” answered Castiel. “Why do you ask?”

         “Are you sure your CPR saved me? What it if it didn’t work? What if I died, and ended up back here, in Heaven? If I was God I’d go straight down to Crowley, but still. God is MIA. So what about me? How do I fit in? How do I even know if I’m dead or alive?” asked Dean.

         “How do you feel?” Castiel asked.

         “Hungry. I ain’t had a cheeseburger in,” he stopped to try to estimate the time.

         “Then there’s you answer,” said Cas. “Dead people don’t eat. Not even here in Heaven.” Castiel paused. “If you’re hungry I could get you some beer and cheeseburgers when we get home,” he said.

         _When we get home._ Those were among the most beautiful words Dean had ever heard.       

        “Is ok if I hug you?” Dean interrupted. Life had suddenly become indecipherable, but he still knew that hugging Cas was good. Castiel opened his arms and nodded. The two held each other tight for a very long time.

         “You can’t hug someone like that and hate them at the same time?” asked Dean. “That’s impossible, right?”

         “I wouldn’t know,” answered Castiel. “I’ve never tried. I fail to see the point.”

         “But when we hugged, you loved me.”

         “Of course. Why else would I hug you?” Castiel asked, slightly annoyed. “I don’t understand your reasoning, Dean. Are you trying to ask me something? Please make an effort to use terms I can understand.”

         “Ok,” said Dean. “I fucked up last night. Bad. Really bad. If you wanna toss our bond in the ocean, drop me back on Earth, whatever.”

         Castiel sighed. “You just don’t get it, do you? I don’t know if the concept of  bonding can be entirely understood by humans. Of course I still want you in my life. Dean, I love you. We are bound forever. If you are really intent on it, I suppose you can twist our bond, leave it here to shrivel and eventually be swallowed up by the tide. And just walk away. I can never really understand what you want, but if it’s me, please treat our bond with respect. And stop talking so much. I am tiring of all this talking about bonding. Show me. Show me what you want.”

         Dean took Castiel’s hands and pulled him close. He put his hands in Cas’s back pockets. Castiel’s pale skin was accentuated by two bright red circles, one on each side of his face. After a while Dean asked “So we’re good again?” Castiel attempted to answer but succumbed to the equivalent of an acid reflux coughing fit but with sand. He needed to tell Dean that yes, they were good. But all that he could manage was a gravelly voice and another mouthful of regurgitated sand. He ground out the word “sa-cough cough-san” followed by a long, nasal “nd.”

         Dean laughed, walked to the shore, and made a makeshift cup out of his two large hands. He held the water under Cas’s mouth until he finally stopped coughing up a small sand storm. Castiel drank gratefully, rolling the salt water inside his mouth before spitting it out along with the sand. Dean gave Cas the last of the water, which he swished around in his mouth and began to spit out at exactly the same moment that Dean started to ask “Do you need more?” This resulted in Cas spitting s powerful blend of salt water and sand directly into Dean’s face.

         Cas smiled, not daring to open his mouth again, took Dean’s hand and led him to the shore, where washed their mouths and faces with sandy salt water and seaweed. They walked home together silently, hand in hand. Just before Cas opened the door, Dean turned him around, ran his fingers gently through his lover’s hair, and spit a huge mouthful of water he’d been holding in all this time all over Cas’s face,

         “Gotcha,” he said, smiling at Cas.

         “Jerk,” Cas responded, which would have been a mildly clever rejoinder had he not just snorted a huge amount of salt water up his nostrils. He began sneezing, sounding like a group of high-pitched little school girls actually saying “achoo,” and succumbed to one of the most ridiculous sneezing fits in Heaven, if not on Earth as well. When he had finally finished, he looked up at Dean, huge blue eyes round and full of mischief, and said “Bitch?” trying hard to sound serious, but failing due to a string of snot trailing from his left nostril.

         “We need to capture this Hallmark moment forever,” said Dean, as he walked inside, picked up his phone, put an arm around Cas and hit the camera button. Nothing happened. “That’s weird,” said Dean. “Guess it got stuck.” Dean and Castiel both leaned over the phone, getting in each other’s way as they each tried to see what was wrong. Suddenly the camera clicked and flashed, capturing the moment with a perfectly centered and focused close-up of four nostrils. “Right,” said Dean. “Timer.”

         “Stupid selfies,” Castiel said, and led Dean toward the bedroom. He stopped in his tracks and turned around, walking straight into a very puzzled Dean. “Shower?”

         Dean turned around and looked at the trail of muck they had tracked in. “Shower,” he agreed, then pushed Cas against the wall and kissed him, hard, for a long time. Gritty and salty, it was one of the sweetest kisses in Dean’s life.

 


	14. Don't Worry Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on a very large chapter 14 for so long that I'm afraid you've all forgotten me.
> 
> So here is a little gift to tide you over.
> 
> Bubblegum fluff.
> 
> Enjoy it while you can, because Big Difficult Things are coming in the next chapter...

**Don’t Worry Baby**   
  
**Oh what he does to me**   
**When he makes love to me**   
**And he says “Don’t worry baby”**   
**Don’t worry baby**   
**Don’t worry baby**   
**Everything will turn out all right**

**\- Brian Wilson and Roger Christian, the Beach Boys**

 

Cas was relieved to hear his phone ring. He vastly preferred being called on the phone to the loud ringing in his head which meant an angel was trying to get in touch with him. Sometimes the ringing gave him a migraine for days. There were times when direct calling was necessary, but in Cas’s opinion, those times were limited to extremely rare and catastrophic importance. Neither of which explained the direct calls he’d been getting from Hannah, with updates on the State of Heaven.

         Cas picked up the phone. “Hello Sam. [pause] I don’t particularly enjoy keeping secrets but I can if necessary. [pause]  Oh. Are you all right? Do you need help? [pause] No, I don’t think you need to worry. I think it’s an excellent idea. You are most welcome. I think you are very brave, setting this up. Hang on.”

         “Hello Dean. Did you have a good run?”

         Dean sweated and gasped in reply.    

         “Perhaps a shower would be in order.”

         Dean headed toward the bathroom, which Castiel had installed for him after their bonding.

         “Don’t forget to come out before you towel dry. Among other things.”

         “Right,” Castiel said into the  phone, glad Sam couldn’t see his blush. “I believe I should hang up now. Sam, not everything is yours to know. See you soon.”

         Castiel walked into the bathroom. “Coming in?” asked Dean, sticking his head out of the sheer shower curtain with a tiny leer on his face.

         “I think not,” Castiel answered. I’ll just enjoy the view.”

         “Who was that on the phone?” Dean asked.

         “Your brother, Sam.”

         “Right. I know my brother’s name, Cas. Did he ask to talk to me?”

         “No, but we’re invited for dinner,” Castiel responded.

         Castiel could hear Dean scrubbing himself clean with what used to be a living piece of coral. He took a deep breath to steady himself before talking again. The heat had robbed the shower curtain of some of its transparency, which revealed a very evocative image.

         “Is he ok, Cas? You sounded a little funny talking to him.”

         “No, not really. That’s why I’m coming.” Castiel felt like smacking  himself in the forehead. He felt incredibly stupid for botching his first attempt at protecting Dean. Prevarication was not in his nature. “And you too, of course.”

         Dean stuck a hand out of the shower and asked “Towel?”

         Cas handed him one of the two towels which lived in his bathroom. Angels didn’t need showers, but there were times Castiel had joined Dean in the shower for reasons other than cleanliness.

         “So, we’re going to my little brother’s for dinner,” Dean said rather stupidly, belaboring the obvious.  He walked out of the shower with the towel wrapped around his hips. He leaned over the sink to brush his teeth, and the towel slipped off and landed on the bathroom floor.

         “Oops,” he said, leering and looking at Castiel. Cas was trying to squint his eyes, look away, and imagine seeing Sam again. He liked Sam very much, which had nothing to do with Cas’s increased heart rate and extremely red face as he picked up the towel and hung it over the shower curtain.

         Dean left the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Cas opened the door, for ventilation, which he mentioned every time Dean took a shower and shut the door. Seconds later they were in the bedroom, Dean lying in bed watching Castiel pull off his clothing and uncharacteristically drop it on the floor. Dean looked up at him as he finished undressing and began to get into bed. “Shoes,” Dean said. Cas toed off his shoes and slipped under the covers next to Dean, who wasted no time pulling Cas toward him and skillfully began touching strategic places. Cas shut his eyes in pleasure and leaned over to face Dean, as much as it was possible to face someone with his eyes closed. He sighed and snuggled into Dean’s neck. How could he have lived in Heaven for so long and been unaware of the exquisite feel of his skin pressed up against the skin of someone he loved.

         Dean kneeled over Cas and reached down to grasp his genitals. Cas took a sharp intake of breah, and didn’t move at all. His vessel was respectfully sized, but he radiated something related to sexuality but much more intense when Dean touched him. Cas became  increasingly wet and so erect it was almost painful. Dean expertly continued his hand job, making good use of the pre-come as lubrication. He accidentally coughed, which made his hand contract. Cas immediatly moaned and came all over his stomach. Cas placed a hand on Dean erection and lay without moving, perfectly still, enjoying the afterglow and Dean. Then he flipped Dean over so they were lying front to front. Dean pushed his legs between Cas’s thighs. Cas took this as an invitation. Dean pushed Castiel’s thighs farther apart, placed his hand under Cas’s buttocks and pushed up, to give himself more access. He hardly needed to have done so; he was already so hard that one long, hard push into Cas was enough. Dean’s entire body shivered.  Castiel’s eyes were closed, and he hummed the tune of the mountains.


	15. Highway Patrolman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about everything.
> 
> Not really, but too much to summarize.
> 
> Sorry. You'll just have to read it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a ridiculously long time writing and rewriting and rewriting this chapter so many times that I've lost perspective.
> 
> If you have any constructive criticism, please don't feel shy to comment. I won't learn how to do things right if no one tells me when I'm doing them wrong.
> 
> Also I'm not sure yet what comes next. Again, if you have any ideas, please comment.
> 
> Thank you.

**Highway Patrolman**

**Me and Franky laughin' and drinkin'**   
**nothin' feels better than blood on blood**   
**Takin' turns dancin' with Maria**   
**as the band played "Night of the Johnstown Flood"**   
**I catch him when he's strayin', like any brother would**   
**Man turns his back on his family well he just ain't no good**

**\- Bruce Springsteen**

 

         Dean began to drift off, a habit of his after good sex, and suddenly sat straight up in bed.

         “We gotta go see Sam, Cas,” Dean said. “Like, now.”

         When Cas didn’t answer immediately, Dean shook him by the shoulders; which left Castiel a bit snappy. He’d been lost in thought about a fascinating mental construction of a wormhole, and wanted to return to the wormhole without having to reconstruct it from scratch. “Why the rush? We’re not invited for any specific time, and I have a feeling the dinner’s just an excuse to get together. Why right now?”

         “Honestly, I don’t know. I just know he needs us. Something seriously  bad’s going down. I can feel it. He _needs_ us.”

         “Do you  know what’s happening?”

         “No idea.”

         “Is it a brother thing? Does this sort of communication happen often?”

         “Nope. This is the first time. Can we get a move on already?”

         “But I cooked you lunch. It’s in the microwave, ready to reheat. Cheeseburger and fries, heavy on the fries, the way you like it.”

         “I’m not hungry. What the fuck is wrong with you? Sam needs us. Now. You gonna hang out all day talking about lunch?” Dean was past impatient and near either screaming or kicking Castiel’s ass.

         “No,” said Castiel. Next moment they were in Sam’s apartment. Which used to be Sam and Dean’s apartment. It looked dark and dirty compared to Castiel’s clean white sunny house. Nonetheless, Dean felt an unexpected rush of joy to be home. The rips in the couch were _his_ rips. The treads on the carpet were from _his_ boots. The thought of Sam’s underwear in _his_ underwear drawer made him slightly queasy. It wasn’t till now that it really sank in: He was homeless. He was a visitor in Sam’s apartment, and a long-term guest at Cas’s home. He had a wild flash of wanting to go through the apartment and take everything of his. But what if Sam had gotten rid of his stuff? He panicked. What if Sam had sold the Impala?

         “Dean!” Sam shouted, and grabbed his brother in a long, tight hug, which made Dean feel guilty about putting his possessions before his brother.

         “Whoa,  buddy. I missed you too, but I kinda like to breath every once in a while, ya know? How’s Baby?”

         Sam sighed. “Your car is fine Dean. So am I, thanks for asking.” He let go, causing Dean to tumble slightly backwards.

         “Jeesh, bro. You grow another four inches while I was gone?”

         “Doubt it, Maybe you shrank up in Heaven? Are most angels as short as Cas?” asked Sam.

         “Hello, Sam. What happened? We had an arrangement. Why did you break it? What’s so urgent that Dean had to skip lunch? I’d cooked his favorite, and pie for dessert. What’s  so important you made Dean skip his pie?” Castiel demanded.

         “Pie? You didn’t say you made pie. We could have made time for pie!”

         “Shut up, Dean,” said Castiel.

         “I didn’t call Dean,” Sam said, sounding annoyed.

         “I’m not short,” Castiel snapped. “Crowley’s short. And did you really scream at Dean to come as fast as we could so we could have a height competition?”

         “I repeat. I didn’t call Dean. Or you.” Sam said, walking over to the table to choose a bagel from an open box. He took a bite out of one and returned, chewing.

         “What, I don’t get a bagel?’’ Dean asked his brother, then immediately felt embarrassed. “Hey. Look, Sammy. I’m sorry. This has been a really weird day.”

         “I suppose it has,” said Sam. He rifled through the bagels till he found Dean’s favorite, and tossed it to him.

         Dean caught the bagel without really looking as he flipped through a well-used magazine about busty Asian women.

         “Seriously? Your world’s about to fall apart and you’re looking at porn?” Sam asked.

         “It’s your porn, bro. And who says my world’s falling apart? I don’t see much of anything going on here. I’m just wondering what was so important I had to skip my – oh shit. What’s _he_ doing here?

         The bedroom door opened and Crowley stepped in.  In formal, Victorian fashion, he took Dean’s hand and gave it a kiss on the back. “Dean, my errant little chum. How lovely to see you again. I’ve been missing that delicious ass of yours. I see you brought along your pet angel. No worries, Castiel. I’ve always been partial to threesomes.” He looked at Sam. “Always willing to try something new.” Sam huffed. Crowley’s eyes beamed with barely controlled anger, tempered by a tiny bit of real happiness to see Dean again.

         “See, Sam?” Crowley said. “This is why I needed to be here in your very humble abode. I had to be near you to scramble the call so it seemed to  occur to Dean on his own. Had I called Castiel myself, I might have scared him away.”

         Castiel snorted. “So you used the Winchesters instead. Typical. No, Crowley, I was not afraid of a call from you. I have never been afraid of a call from you, and the same holds true for future calls from you. However, I cannot guarantee I would bother to answer a call from you.”

         “Crowley,” Sam said, his face burning with anger. “You promised you’d leave Cas alone.”  
          
         “Ah,” said Crowley. “Yes. I believe I do recall having said some along those lines. Foolish little Moose. Haven’t you learned by now? I’m a demon. Demons lie,” Crowley grinned. “Get used to it.”

         “Not so much,” Sam said. He turned on a garden hose which shot a projectile stream of holy water at Crowley’s face. Meanwhile, Dean had been drawing a demon circle.

         “Ow! Bastard,” Crowley muttered while Sam grabbed his arms and handcuffed them together behind his back. He lifted Crawley and dropped him in the trap. Just to be sure, Sam poured a prodigious amount of salt over the edges of the circle and set the box nearby. Castiel’s eyes were dangerously determined. He picked up the box of salt, walked straight over to Crowley, pushed his chin back, and poured a good portion of the remaining salt directly into the demon’s eyes. “Ow!! Are you trying to kill me?”

         “Unfortunately, no” Castiel replied. He re-salted the perimeter which Crowley had tried scraping off with his shoe. The King of Hell stood silently in the circle and glowered.

         “Someone wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” asked Dean, kicking at a shoe that stuck out slightly from under a couch. He bent over and picked it up. “What the fuck? This is my shoe. What the Hell is my shoe doing here?”

         “It’s probably where you left it,” Sam answered. “I thought you were dead, you know. I figured dying in my arms might have helped clue you in. Then I heard that Crowley here made you a demon. I’m afraid the exact location of your shoe was not my top priority.”

         “Sam,” Castiel asked, “why did you let this assbutt into your house?  For, uh, baynuts?”

         “Bagels. Donuts are the sweet ones. And I didn’t exactly invite Crowley over. He just showed up, put a knife to my neck, and made some sort of weird vibration travel through my entire body. Gave me a killer headache. Guess that’s how he scrambled the call.”

         “Hey. I didn’t come here just cause of that weird call,” Dean added. “I would have come anyhow. I miss you. I was worried about you. Plus, this bastard’s noise wouldn’t shut up in my head. I had to come. I couldn’t stand not coming.”

         Castiel shook his head. “This is despicable behavior, even coming from you. Crowley. You owe Sam an apology. Apologize.”

         Crowley looked as dignified as possible while trapped in his circle with his hands cuffed behind his back. “Never. I’m not saying I’m sorry for anything I did to moose head.”

         “Need a little incentive?” Castiel asked. He stared at Crowley, pointed two fingers at him, and mumbled something under his breath. The ring of fire started shooting flames, about five feet high. Crowley began sweating, but, stuck in the circle as he was, he was impotent.

         “You look a little pale, Crowley,” said Castiel. “What say I treat you to a free tanning session?” The fire began to move closer and closer to Crowley.

         “All right all right! Don’t fucking fry me. How imbecilic are you? Can you cut it out before your source of information becomes toast?”

         Castiel lowered the flames to knee-level. Just high enough that Crowley wouldn’t be able to jump over them. “So what are we here for, Crowley?” he asked. “Tell me.”

         “You, my dear nemesis, are here as a chauffeur. Only way to ensure the timely appearance of this one,” he said, pointing at Dean.

         “Hey, I can angel travel just fine on my own now, thanks.” Dean scowled.

         “Oh, look at that. My little baby is growing up. And see how perfectly my plan worked,” said Crowley. “Here you all are, simply hanging on my every word.”

         “Why” Castiel threw the words at Crowley as if they were part of the fire.

         “If  you let me out of here, I can tell you.”

         “Give me one good reason why I should.” Castiel looked like he was dying for a fight.

         Crowley whistled. “You can come out now,” he called.

         The bedroom door opened and out stepped a loosely dressed young woman with long red hair. In her arms was an infant.

         For a moment, the entire room was absolutely silent.

         “Miriam!” said Castiel. “In what way are you bound to this demon? Do you need help?”

         “I’m fine now, Castiel” the angel replied. “I was not so fine when you slammed the Gates of Heaven shut, hurting and killing so many of our brothers and sisters. I require nothing from you,” she continued, “especially since you prefer to spend your time with humans. And, apparently, a demon. My mission is to deliver this infant to its rightful father, and return to Heaven to wait to be assigned a less humiliating task.”

         “Oh shit,” said Dean.

         “Language,” said Crowley in a sing-song voice. He looked at Castiel. “It doesn’t really matter to me, but if you have any concern over the safety of Miriam and her little bundle of joy here, perhaps you should watch what you say.”

         “Oh shit,” Dean repeated. He looked at the angel Miriam. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t have a choice. Really. I was drugged and totally under his  control, he said, pointing at Crowley. “Honest, uh, was it Miriam, now?” No one answered. Dean put his head between his hands and squeezed.

         “I bear you no ill will,” Miriam said to Dean. “You are human, and I do not expect you to overpower a demon. You, on the other hand,” she said, looking at Crowley. “You altered my biological makeup and stole nine months of my life. There are too many humans here now. I will deal with you later.”

         “As for you,” Miriam continued, looking at Dean, “this is yours. Sit down.” Dean sat. “Here,” she said, giving the baby girl to Dean. He was angry and confused, and expected to feel nothing but annoyance at the infant. However, when he held her in his lap, carefully supporting her neck while staring at her deep blue eyes, he was overcome with love. A daughter. He actually had a daughter. He shifted her to a more defended position. He remained silent, but his eyes quite clearly said “mess with my daughter and you are dead meat.”

         Castiel approached Miriam. “Would you like me to return your body to its original state?”

         “I’d like nothing more,” answered Miriam. Cas put his index and middle fingers on her forehead and placed a palm on the skin covering her artificially stimulated reproductive organs. Castiel remained in that position for a long time, squinting and sighing every now and then. He found the process exquisitely painful, and very slow going.

         Miriam remained apparently unaffected. Eventually Castiel murmured a long incantation under his breath. Sweat poured down his forehead, which was odd because angels do not perspire. For the first time in his life, other than when his grace had been stolen, Castiel wondered if he were strong enough for this much healing. It required a huge expenditure and a very long time to shift Miriam’s molecules back to their original positions. He was about to take a break when Miriam said “Thank you, Castiel. It is done.”

         Miriam started at Dean and their offspring for a moment. “Do you want to hold her, say goodbye?” asked Dean. “Not particularly,” answered Miriam. “There is a reason why angels are barren. We do not possess the emotions required to raise a child. We love only God and each other, and have pledged to defend our brothers and sisters above all else. There is no room for babies in our lives. Children require love to flourish, and we do not have that love.”

         “Thank you, brother Castiel,” she continued, shifting her gaze. “For the first time in almost a year, I feel like myself. I will not forget what you have done for me.”

         Castiel was sitting at the table, elbows on the surface, hands supporting his head. “My honor, sister Miriam” he said, although all he wanted to do was lay his head down on his arms and collapse.

         Miriam disappeared in a blast of white light. Castiel gasped and covered his eyes. He heard a loud “ahem” and looked up to see Crowley, still handcuffed and bound by the demon circle. “I have made good on my side of the promise,” he said, staring at Sam. “I was under the impression that I would be freed in return.”

         No one made a move toward him. Dean was holding his infant daughter, afraid to move for fear of dropping her. Castiel looked as if he were unconscious, head on the table. “Would it be a terrible inconvenience, Sam, to eradicate this circle and free my hands?”

         “Actually, I’d like nothing better than to see you gone, but I don’t have the key for the cuffs and I have no idea how to control a fire.” Castiel pointed over his shoulder to the fire without turning around to look. It disappeared, as did the circle of salt.

         “Handcuffs?” Crowley asked. Castiel took the key out of his pocket and tossed it toward Crowley, without looking. Crowley was a very clever and dexterous demon, but even he couldn’t even pick up a key, let alone use it, with his hands cuffed behind his back. “A little help here?” Sam walked over, picked up the key, and freed Crowley, who immediately began rubbing his wrists where they were red from the cuffs. He made a few windmill motions to restore the blood flow to his arms. Then, to Sam’s amazement, he bent down, picked up the handcuffs, and gave them to Sam.

         While Sam stood with his mouth hanging open, Crowley crossed the now imaginary line and walked to Dean and the infant. He squatted in front of them, and very gently stroked a bit of red hair. The baby cooed and turned her tiny face toward Crowley and smiled, although she ought to have been way too young to smile. For a moment, Crowley felt as if he were surrounded, inside and out, with white light. He held out a finger and she snatched it up and began sucking. Dean was very suspicious, and kept a tight hold on his daughter, but he had to admit that Crowley seemed to really care for the child.

         “How old is she?” Dean asked. “I forgot to ask her mother.”

         “Not to worry, Deano. I – ”

         “Don’t call me Deano.”

         “Well pardon _me,”_ Crowley retorted. “ _Dean_. You really don’t know how old she is? Your own daughter. Tut tut.”

         “Enough with the dramatics, Crowley. Just tell me.”

         “She was born at 5:15 this morning. Happy?”

         “Five-fifteen??!! She’s not even a day old yet? I’d have guessed at least a month.”

         Sam chimed in “I thought she was even older. Dean’s daughter. Dean’s daughter who I learned about today, the day she was born. It wouldn’t have killed you to let me know I was gonna be an uncle.”

         “It’s not that simple, Sam. In fact it’s so fucking complicated it would take a week to explain.”

         “You’re so delicious, but still bit on the dim-witted side,” Crowley told Dean. “It’s quite simple. While I was hosting Dean as a demon, he was part demon for a while, before he gradually lost the gift and returned to almost all human. I love to experiment, and a brilliant idea occurred to me. I simply couldn’t resist seeing what would happen if I mated a half demon, half human with an angel. Demons and angels are incapable of  breeding. Hate to say it, but Miriam described it pretty well.

         “So here I was, with a perfect specimen of demon _and_ human blood, just begging to mate with an angel and see what happens.”

         “I was not ‘just begging to mate,’ Dean interrupted. “I seem to recall that your _experiment_ was pretty damn close to rape. I never would’ve had anything to do with it if you hadn’t drugged me and the angel ladies half out of our minds. I’m just saying.”

         “Rape, sex, whatever,” said Crowley. “It doesn’t matter. I successfully mated a half-human half-demon with a full-blooded angel. I’d wager that was the first time anyone has tried that.”

         “That’s because it’s a manipulative and selfish idea, Crowley. Even you know that,” Dean interjected.

         “As I said, whatever. I can’t express the delight I felt when it worked. These past nine months have been nigh unto unbearable, like an itch you can’t quite reach to scratch. Watching Miriam’s belly grow was absolutely amazing. For once, I am at a lack for words.”

         “Forced rape and drugging seem like pretty damn good words,” Dean spat at Crowley. “So wait. You’re telling me her mother was drugged during the entire pregnancy? What the fuck did that do to my daughter?”

         “Crowley shrugged. “That remains to be seen.”

“Y’know, when Miriam first gave this one to me,” Dean continued, pausing to kiss his daughter on the top of her head, “I could swear she seemed younger. Pretty advanced for a newborn, maybe, but it seems like she’s grown about a month or two just sitting here in my lap. Not that I don’t love her to death, but I don’t understand what’s going on. How could I get a sterile angel pregnant anyhow?”

         “I just told you,” Crowley said in a very demeaning tone of voice. “I had to keep the angel on the same drugs I used to make her conceive or she’d have lost the baby. I would think that the risks were worth what would have happened if I’d withheld the medication. Guess what would have happened then, oh prodigy of mine?”

         “Miscarriage?” asked Dean, a little unsure of himself.

         “Ding! And he’s right, ladies and gentlemen. For your next question, answer this. Why is this little baby growing so fast?”

         “Angel blood?” asked Dean, who was really beginning to resent this conversation.

         “Ding! And he’s right again. Maybe. It could have the been the demon blood in the father, or the angel blood from the mother. No way of knowing for sure. But that would ruin all the fun,” Crowley concluded. “If the uncertainty is too much for your little human mind to bear, give her to her godfather Crowley. I’d like nothing more than to watch her grow. Although general consensus dictates that demons have no emotion, thus as a  demon, I have no emotions, the logic is clearly flawed. I think perhaps a tiny amount of human blood must have remained after my own experiment. I love this little one, and yet I give her to you out of the kindness of my demon heart.”

         “I seriously doubt it,” said Dean. “And you are so not her godfather. Sam’s her uncle, so Cas is clearly her godfather. Right, Cas?” He gave his daughter another kiss on the top of her head, which he swore was larger. Her fontanel had already disappeared.

         Castiel’s headache had abated soon after Miriam left. He’d been listening intently but silently to Dean and Crowley’s conversation. “I doubt the drugs did any damage to the baby,” he answered Dean. “The drugs and foreign blood may have given her a kick-start, but I’ve been watching her. Her growth rate is already beginning to slow down. Soon it will level off, and then she’ll grow up at a normal pace, like any baby would. Except there is nothing normal about her,” he added. “I’m amazed, Crowley, at just how far you will go. Do you have any idea what demon and angel blood will do to her? Will she grow up a freak? How can you play God with life? For fun?”

         “Well,” answered Crowley, “living forever does have its down side. It can get very boring. That’s why I took Dean in, to have a demon friend so I don’t have to do every single thing in my life alone. And that’s why I jumped at the chance to perform this experiment. You may call it many things, but boring is not one of them.”

         “Draconian comes to mind,” Castiel said. “Abominable, tragic, I could go on and on.”

         “What the Hell, Cas?” Dean interrupted.

         “Chill, Dean. I think that is what humans would say. I didn’t say your daughter was Draconian, or a tragic abomination. She seems brilliant and adorable. I would be honored to be her godfather. I was referring to Crowley’s experimentation. Miriam could have produced a monster. Which I believe Crowley would have found just as fascinating.”

         “I would have found the idea of becoming an uncle fascinating,” Sam interjected.

         Dean shivered. “Yeah. I should have told you, Sam. You know, I’d just about forgotten all about this whole experience.  That’s creepy as Hell.”

         “No shit,” Sam concurred.

         “Dean, you were probably drugged to forget. Sam, you’re the uncle of a miracle. Shut up, the both of you,” Castiel said, rather loudly for him.

         “I don’t suppose you brought any diapers or formula?” Dean asked Crowley.

         “From Hell?” Crowley answered. “I think not. I am tiring of this entire situation. Have a Hell of a good time, Daddy. I’ll check in later. Your daughter is most charming. I hope your angel Castiel truly agrees. But now I must take my leave before I expire from boredom.” And with that, Crowley disappeared.

         “Ahh. I can finally breathe again. Although this one really could use a diaper change,” said Dean. “What do you think, little one? Daddy thinks you’re amazing, honey, but Daddy also thinks you’re just a little bit wet.”

         “I’ll go,” said Sam. “But I have to see this little niece of mine, first.” He walked over to Dean, and looked down at his niece. A huge smile spread across his face. “She’s beautiful. Perfect.” Sam covered his face to play peek-a-boo, and said “Uh-oh. Where’d I go?”

         The baby laughed, and her eyes lit up when Sam removed his hand to look at her.

         “She’s a real charmer,” Sam told his brother. “Better watch out when she hits puberty. You’ve got a real Lolita on your hands.”

         “Lolita!” Dean exclaimed. “That’s perfect. I’ve been wondering what to call her. Beautiful, precocious, quite the flirt,” Dean said, beaming at his daughter. “Lolita it is.”

         “Lolita strikes me as an inappropriate name for a child,” Cas said.

         “So we’ll call her Lola,” said Dean, giving Castiel a strange look.

         “Lo-la,” the baby said, causing the adults to almost fall over in wonder. “Lo-la Lo-la Lo-la,” she continued. “Daddy,” she pointed to Dean, clearly on a roll. “Daddy God?” she asked, pointing at Castiel. Dean laughed. “Not quite, sweetie. I’m your Daddy, and Cas is your God-Daddy,” Dean said hopefully, looking at Cas.

         “That’s right, Lola,” Cas said, making intense eye contact with her. “I’m your god-father. That means if anything ever happens to your real Daddy, I’ll take care of you.”

         Lolita looked horror-struck. “No Daddy? No! Daddy!” Dean picked her up and squished her in a bear hug, which only made her giggle. “Daddy,” she said, tweaking Dean’s nose. “Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy.”

         “Don’t worry, Lola,” said Cas. “Nothing’s going to happen to your Daddy. I love him very much, and I’d never let anything bad happen to him.

         “Godfather just means that I love you too, and I’ll help take care of you and Daddy.” Castiel gave her a very rare smile. “Nothing bad is going to happen to you or your Daddy. I promise. I’m an angel. Angels are good at keeping promises.” And they aren’t supposed to lie, Cas thought to himself, frowning slightly. He had just made a guarantee he couldn’t possibly keep. To a human baby. Who couldn’t possibly understand, but understood completely. Castiel’s headache began to return.

         Lolita looked frightened. “No angel,” she said to Castiel. “No angel. Angel bad. Angel daddy go.” Lolita was on the verge of tears. Without thinking about it, Castiel gently lifted her out of Dean’s lap and held her. For the first time, Lolita looked like she might cry. “No God Daddy,” she said, her voice trembling. “Daddy,” she announced, looking at Dean and holding out her arms.

         Castiel gave her back to her father. While she was safe in Dean’s lap, Cas stared intently into her eyes, and she stared right back. They stayed that way for a good minute or so. Lola gradually relaxed, even smiled at Castiel. He placed two fingers gently on her forehead. “Go to sleep now, Lola. Shhhhh. Sleep.” Lolita obediently shut her eyes and began quietly snoring.

         Dean looked up at Cas. “She’s lucky to have an angel for a godfather.”

         “She was tired anyhow. I just gave her a little nudge.”

         “Is this really ok with you, Cas? Cause I love Lola so much, but I love you so much, too. You’re not going to leave us?” Dean looked exhausted and very nervous.

         “Dean. How many times do I have to tell you that our bond is forever? Nothing can change that. Especially such a lovely and unique little girl. I love you Dean, no matter what. Remember that. I’ll love you through Hell and high water. Lola is your flesh and blood. I feel honored to have her in our family. Get it?” He bent over and kissed Lola on the top of the head. Then he kissed Dean, on the lips. A little bit longer than was strictly necessary.

         “So we’re ok?” he asked Dean. Castiel nodded.

         “How can I be so goddam lucky to have you _and_ Lola?” Dean asked. “What did I do, to deserve to be so lucky?” he asked Cas.

         “You were born, Dean Winchester,” Castiel said. “Isn’t that enough?”

         Sam opened the front door. “Diaper and formula delivery,” he said, holding several shopping bags. One contained enough formula to last until Lola was on solid food. The other contained enough diapers to last until she was toilet-trained. Half the diapers were size small, half medium. None of them were for infants or newborns.

         “Thanks, Sam, you've been, uh, um, oh I can't think of the word," Dean said, interrupting himself with a huge yawn. "You're a really good brother. I’m so tired. Can Lo and I spend the night?”

         "I  was expecting you to. Cas too, of course.”

         Castiel looked drained, as if it had been months since he’d rested or meditated or whatever it was angels did to relax and prepare for the next day.

         “Thank you, Sam” Castiel said. “I am quite low on energy. I need to recharge.” Dean and Lola were fast asleep on a chair. Castiel looked at Sam, wondering where they would sleep.

         “Take Dean’s old room,” Sam replied. “I changed the sheets, and no one’s used it since…”

         “Got it,” said Cas. He opened one the of the bags of small diapers, and changed Lola while she and Dean slept. He smiled and whispered into Dean’s ear “bed.”

         “Uhmmm,” replied Dean.

         “Dean, we’ve got to go to bed. Come on. You can do it.”

         “Bed?” asked Dean, as if he were asking for manna from Heaven.

         Castiel rarely did this, but he said goodnight to Sam and waited for him to leave the room. When he was certain he was alone, he opened his wings and spread them wide. He easily took the weight of Dean and Lola, and swept them into the bedroom. He lay Dean on one side of the bed, facing inwards. He then very carefully lay Lola in the middle of the bed. He stood by the bedside, watching his family sleep.

         He’d never expected anything like this, this even as a possibility, and frankly, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Or rather, he felt just about every emotion in existence. Dean had an arm around Lola, protective even in his sleep. Castiel suddenly wanted Dean very badly. He was used to unlimited access to Dean; not anymore, he thought with a sigh. He wondered how many other changes he’d have to get used to.

         Yet it was impossible to look at Lola and not fall in love. He’d told Dean once that he was a jealous angel. Was it possible to be jealous of your partner’s baby? He spent the night standing next to the bed, watching Dean and Lola and thinking, while he waited for them to wake.

 


	16. Bad Moon Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though he didn't know it yet, Crowley's experiment had succeeded beyond his wildest expectations.
> 
> Lola was an adorable, precocious baby. She was also a triad. She was a human, an angel, and a demon.
> 
> Dean knew nothing of this. Castiel, who had always hated secrets, now held the most important secret of his life.
> 
> Lola was a real sweetheart. She was also a time bomb.

  **Bad Moon Rising**

**I see a bad moon rising**   
**I see trouble on the way**   
**I see earthquakes and lightning**   
**I see bad times today**

**Don’t go around tonight**   
**Well, it’s bound to take your life**   
**There’s a bad moon on the rise**

**\- John Fogerty, performed by Creedence Clearwater Revival**

 

         As Castiel stood watching Dean and Lola sleep, he felt as if were in the crow’s nest on a ship in a thunderstorm. The wind whipped painfully, threatening to knock him over. The way Lola had knocked over his life. Yesterday, he and Dean had been hanging out with Sam; now, he was staring at a baby sleeping with his partner. A baby, not an infant. A baby who had almost doubled her size in 18 hours and seemed to understand way more than Castiel would have thought possible.

         Small broken rays of dawn light flickered through the partially closed Venetian blinds. Lola was repeatedly lit up by the moving light. Castiel allowed himself a small smile. This might not be so bad, he thought. It might be delightful. The intermittent light on Lola’s face was beautiful to see but it woke Lola. She opened her eyes and yawned. Green eyes complemented the red curls framing her face.

         Curls, thought Castiel. Last night her hair wasn’t long enough for curls.

         “Good morning, Lola” he said. “I think you could use a bath and a change of clothes. Which we don’t have. When your bath is over I can wrap you up in a big soft towel and put you right back here next to Daddy. He’ll wake up to a nice clean Lola.”

         “No,” Lola said definitively. “No baff. Lo-la want Daddy.”

         “A quick bath. Then right back to Daddy.”

         “No!” Lola repeated, one step short of shouting.

         “Shhh. You’ll wake Daddy. He’s still tired. He needs more sleep.”

         “No baff, no shhh. Lo-la want Daddy.”

         “You’re dirty, Lola. A bath will make you clean.”

         “Lo-la want dirty. Want Daddy. No baff.” She managed to speak very purposefully, but quietly, to let her Daddy sleep. Castiel was very aware that Lola possessed the logical thought processes of a much older child.

         “All right, Lola. No bath. I’ll just change your diaper.”

         “No!”

         “Shhh! I already told you to be quiet. Daddy is sleeping. Do you want to wake him up?” Castiel was beginning to sound a bit testy, too.

         “Lo-la no like God Daddy.”

         When Castiel just sat on the bed, staring at her, Lola lost it.

         “No God Daddy!” she shouted. She stared at Castiel, clearly furious. A ray of sun caught her eye, forcing her to blink. When she opened her eyes, they were demon black.

         Castiel’s jaw dropped. “ No! No!! Lola, no black eyes!” he nearly yelled. “Black eyes are Bad. Very Bad. Daddy hates black eyes. Daddy is very afraid of black eyes. Turn off the black eyes right now!”

         Lola’s eyes returned to normal, although she gave Castiel a very nasty look. He wanted nothing more than to spread his wings and fly away on the wind to his haven in Heaven. But that was out of the question. Lola was part of his family now; his partner’s flesh and blood.

         “God Daddy,” Lola beckoned in a sing-song voice. She looked at Castiel, then smiled and giggled and said “Lola black eyes.” She turned her eyes black, just to tease Cas. Castiel was confused and frightened. He’d never encountered a situation like this before.

         “Stop,” he commanded quietly. “Stop immediately. You may never, ever show your black eyes again. Ever. Black eyes are not a game. Do you understand me?”

         Lola cowered and grabbed Dean’s hand. He grunted in his sleep and pulled Lola closer. There had been times when Castiel had been annoyed that Dean slept so heavily he was nearly impossible to wake. Right now, however, Dean’s heavy sleep was a blessing.

        “Lola,” Castiel repeated slowly and seriously. “Do you understand me? This is very important. _Very_ important. Turn off you black eyes right now.”

         Lola stared at Cas, black eyes shining.

         “Why? Fire circle man black eyes.”

         “That’s because he’s a demon. Demons have back eyes. Demons are very bad. Demons are evil. Demons kill babies like Lola and eat them for breakfast.” This last wasn’t true, and he hated himself for being so cruel, but Lola had to learn to control her demon eyes, at any cost. The consequences were vast and potentially fatal. An angel would not hesitate to kill a little girl with red curls and demon eyes. Miriam would kill her own daughter without thinking twice.

         Lola began to cry. “Lo-la demon? Lo-la bad? Daddy eat Lo-la?” Her eyes shone bright green from her tears.

         Castiel sighed. “No, Lola. You are not bad. You are not a demon. (Not entirely, Castiel reasoned.) ‘’You’re very good.  Daddy would never eat you. And you would never eat Daddy.” He wracked his brain for an example that Lola would understand. “Daddy tastes like stinky diapers.”

         Lola giggled, but Castiel had no illusions that this was settled. How did he get into this position? He hated telling people what to do. He hated prevaricating. He hated answering unanswerable questions more than anything. He wondered if all parents had to lie and terrify their children into submission. He envisioned the rest of his life with Dean and Lola. He envisioned the rest of his life alone…

         Castiel also hated controlling other people with hypnosis. He never used hypnosis unless he absolutely had to. He absolutely had to. “Lola,” he commanded. “Look at me.”

         Lola turned her back on Castiel and snuggled up next to Dean, who was still snoring away.

         Castiel picked up Lola and held her so she was facing him. She was too shocked to cry. A few seconds later, though, her face scrunched up, getting ready for a real crying fit. Castiel ignored the pain he was causing her. He could not afford the luxury of emotions. Just as Lola was about to cry, Castiel locked eyes with her. “Lola, LOOK AT ME. LOOK AT ME NOW.” Castiel had changed. He had abandoned his human emotions and become an angel occupying a human vessel.

         Lola forgot to cry, and stared at Castiel.

         Castiel transcended words and allowed his soul to communicate directly with Lola’s. This was very dangerous. At any moment, the demon part of Lola could invade his open soul. He might never return to himself, the self  he had been for so very long. He banished these thoughts. They were not important. Castiel concentrated all the grisly horror that could happen if Lola let her demon side free, and forced it into a tiny part of his soul. Then he mentally sliced off that part of his soul and put it in Lola’s soul. Lord knows what this might do to her. He had no choice. He knew of no safer, easier method.

         Castiel kept the channel open and remained locked in eye contact with Lola for several minutes. He sent every horror sequence involving Lola’s demon self that he could imagine directly to the part of his soul he had put in Lola. Eventually her own soul would assimilate it. Castiel had never worked so hard to hypnotize anyone in all the many years of  his life. When he ran out of images, he was shaking and his breathing was so shallow he wondered if he would faint. His heart pounded out an irregular beat, sometimes stopping for several seconds at a time, and he felt as if he were going to vomit. He felt as if he deserved it, and desperately wanted to stop.

         Castiel couldn’t finish the hypnosis yet. He had to instill a word in Lola, a word that wasn’t likely to come up in conversation. A word that, whenever Castiel said it, would make Lola immediately turn off her black eyes. He hoped to God, missing or not, that he would never have to use it. Aardvark came to mind, and it seemed as good a word as any.

         Although Castiel despised the concept of mind control inherent in hypnosis, he had considered it the best option several times before. Never had he even approached the level of connection he had with Lola. Hypnosis could be fallible. Suddenly he realized that Lola could be picking up on his thoughts. He very quickly brought Lola back up to normal consciousness, then broke the connection.

         “Tell me how you feel, Lola,” Castiel said.

         “Lo-la sleep.”

         “In a minute. Do you remember what happened?”

         Lola nodded.

         “No black eyes. Ever.” Castiel said to Lola.

         Lola nodded vigorously to indicate she agreed with Castiel.

         “Say it, Lola,” he demanded.

         “No black eyes. Err.”

         “No. That’s not good enough. Do not copy me. Tell me what you think. Use you own words,” Castiel demanded again. Lola looked terrified.

         “Lo-la no black eyes. Black eyes bad,” she responded, clearly frightened.

         “Good. Just one more thing and we’ll  be done. Do you remember the word I will say if I ever see your de--,” he caught himself before he told her she had demon eyes. Hearing him say that might break her. “Do you remember the word will I say if I ever see your black eyes?”

         Lola nodded.

         “Say it,” Castiel commanded. “Say the word out loud.”

         “Ahvok,” Lola responded compliantly.

         Close enough. “And what will you do if I say aardvark?”

         “N-no black eyes,” she said, starting to cry. “Daddy no black eyes. God Daddy no black eyes. Lo-la no black eyes. No black eyes no black eyes no black eyes,” she said, and began to cry in earnest. Lola was nearing her breaking point. She began to tremble and looked as if she might convulse. She cried so hard the front of her onesie was soaked with tears.

         Castiel felt ashamed of the lack of compassion inherent in angels . “I am so sorry I had to frighten you, Lola. But this is very serious.” Castiel felt like crying himself. “Can I hold you?” he asked. Past experience made him doubtful she’d agree.

         “Lo-la hug God Daddy,” she said, surprising Castiel, and surprised him even more when she reached out her arms to be picked up.

         Castiel held Lola to his chest, heart to heart, for his sake as much as hers. Lola realized on some level way past her understanding that Castiel was not the problem. Black eyes were the problem. The reason for black eyes was the problem. It was wrong. Very wrong. She didn’t have the words to ask what was so wrong with her that she had such terrible black eyes, but she clearly projected her fear. Castiel was still attuned to Lola. He kicked himself for neglecting to tell her while she was still hypnotized that none of this was her fault. He’d clearly terrified her. She clung to Castiel for dear life. Lola didn’t know it, but she and Castiel were cementing the hypnosis.

         After a while she began to fidget. Castiel lay her down next to Dean. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so hopeless and frightened and depleted. Even Dean’s suicide attempt paled in comparison. The temptation to return to Heaven was almost irresistible.

         The moment Castiel put Lola back on the bed, she snuggled into her Daddy and fell back asleep. Still sleeping, Dean turned toward her and held her close.

         Castiel leaned against the bedroom wall and watched the man he loved who, even in sleep, was protecting his new daughter. The ease and speed with which Dean accepted and loved Lola puzzled Castiel. He supposed it was another human emotion, intriguing but discouraging.

         He realized that he had come close to what some people might see as abusing Lola. Castiel knew that was wrong. He hadn’t abused her. He had used his power as an angel to do what was necessary to avoid future disaster. But how long can disaster be avoided, he wondered. Being the godfather of a little girl who was angel, demon, and human was exhausting. And what was he going to tell Dean? Nothing. Dean didn’t need to know either the excruciating work Castiel and Lola had shared, or the reason why Castiel scared his daughter half to death.

         Another secret.

 


	17. Don't Worry Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel discovers a side of Lola that threatens his relationship with Dean and puts Lola at risk.
> 
> Lola grows by leaps and bounds due to her angel blood. Her body grows supernaturally (!) fast, but it's her intellect and understanding that are extraordinary.
> 
> Castiel turns to Sam for help, and they have a surprising conversation.
> 
> ========
> 
> I am impatient. Gotta tell you all that the Winchesters are going to have a *very* interesting Christmas in the next chapter. Not yet certain exactly what will happen; these characters seem to tell their story as they go along. But it will *not* be boring!

**Well it’s been building up inside of me  
** **For oh I don’t know how long  
** **I don’t know why  
** **But I keep thinking  
** **Something’s bound to go wrong** **  
****But he looks in my eyes  
** **And makes me realize**

**And he says “Don’t worry baby”**   
**Don’t worry baby**   
**Don’t worry baby**   
**Everything will turn out all right**

**- Brian Wilson and Roger Christian, the Beach Boys**         

       

 

         “What the fuck, Cas? You haven’t let me spend one minute alone with Lola since she got here. I just want to take her on a walk, for Crissake. What the hell is wrong with my spending a little quality time alone with my daughter?”

         Castiel’s eyes darkened. “I was under the impression that Lola was our daughter.”

         Dean sighed. “Ok. Our daughter. At the rate she’s growing I won’t even get to use the stroller. I mean, she’s the size of a toddler now. Except she doesn’t toddle. She walks. And talks. In complete sentences. What’s up with that?”

         “I told you that Miriam is the first angel to bear a child, and I cannot know how that will affect Lola. She seems fine to me. Happy and healthy. Just precocious,” Castiel replied with a tone of voice that suggested this was far from the first time he and Dean had had this conversation.

         “Precocious my ass,” snapped Dean. “Learning to walk at nine months is precocious. Putting together three words to make a simple sentence at ten months is precious. Lola’s growing so fast that she might be a fucking teenager by the time you let me spend a minute of Daddy daughter time together,” Dean said, getting more and more angry.

         “What suddenly makes you an expert on child development?”

         “Sammy and I have been doing some research. It’s not like looking for the fucking angel tablet. Google child development and take your pick. Now you gonna let me go for a walk with Lola or am I gonna have to fight you for it?”

            _I had no idea being a parent was so hard_ , Castiel thought. _Humans never cease to amaze me_. Castiel made some quick mental decisions. Dean was so angry that Cas would do best not to wait until he got suspicious, too. Pushing Lola in a stroller meant that Dean couldn’t see her eyes. It was a sunny day, so if he shoved the cap’s brim down on Lola’s face, her eyes would be pretty much in shadow. She seemed to be unusually sensitive to light, so she should be compliant about the hat.

         Castiel wished he could just enjoy Lola instead of moderating her existence and constantly trying to keep her safe. Normally he might have told Dean about Lola’s demon eyes by now. But the forced time Dean spent with Crowley, and worse yet, his memories of needing to kill when he was part demon himself, stood a very good chance of terrifying him if he thought that might happen to Lola.

         Cas had attributed her astoundingly fast growth, both physically and intellectually, to her angel blood. This was probably true, and Castiel felt rather proud. He knew Dean had to find out about her demon side eventually. The longer he waited, the more time Dean would have to simply enjoy loving his daughter. Castiel wished he could relax and share that pure, unadulterated love for Lola. But he knew he couldn’t afford that luxury.

         “You’re right, Dean. I suppose I have erred too far on the side of caution. There really is no reason you can’t take Lola for a walk without my breathing down your neck. It’s very bright out today. Make sure you put on her visor cap securely. She doesn’t like the sun in her eyes.”

         “I know that, Cas. I also know to buckle her inside her stroller so she won’t fall out. And everything else that you no doubt are prepared to enumerate. Who knew you’d be such an overprotective parent. I know this isn’t easy for you. Thanks. Now all we need  is Lola.”

         As if on cue, she stumbled out of the bedroom the three of them shared. “I’m bored,” she announced.

         “And a good morning to you, too,” said Sam, coming out of the kitchen. “Perfect timing, Lolo. Breakfast is served.”

         “Maple syrup soup!” shouted Lola. “It smells yummy, Uncle Sammy.” The first time Lola called out “Uncle Sam, could you get me some toilet paper? I’m sitting on the toilet and there’s none left,” Dean and Sammy laughed their heads off at the thought of Uncle Sam getting toilet paper for Lola. So Uncle Sammy it was.

         Cas couldn’t understand why Uncle Sam was funny but Uncle Sammy was ok. Even after Sam explained that Uncle Sam was a sort of mascot for the USA, Castiel remained puzzled.

         “But citizens of the United States of America use toilet paper, so the mascot fulfilling the needs of the country seems considerate and helpful. Aren’t those admirable qualities?” Upon which Dean and Sam gave up and Dean said “Cas, go get Lola some toilet paper.” They all took for granted that a little girl who looked about eighteen months had already graduated from diapers, although she needed at step stool to reach the toilet. She skipped the potty stage altogether.

         Living with three men could be confusing. At first, she stood in front of the toilet to pee, as she had caught glimpses of Dean and Sammy doing before they noticed her and slammed the door shut. Lola was very disappointed that even though she had lowered her pants and underpants, they got soaked with pee. Dean decided to forgo a detailed explanation, and told his daughter that she did great pulling down her clothes, but that girls sit on the toilet to pee and boys stand up. That seemed to satisfy her, for now. She wondered why she never saw Cas standing in front of the toilet. She concluded he must be very shy and always closed the door first.

         Dean grabbed a cup of coffee from the coffee machine before it was finished, causing the machine to sizzle hot water where the carafe should be.  Sam had given up and left a small towel by the coffee maker to clean the mess. Dean gave Lola a few pancakes in a bowl, and a stack on a plate for himself. Sam flipped the last pancake, inspected it, and put it on his own plate. He confirmed that the coffee had finished brewing, and poured himself a cup.

         Castiel leaned back against the counter and watched, as usual. Lola couldn’t understand why he never ate, but his answer was always the same, that he wasn’t hungry, so she stopped asking.

         Lola was growing so fast that soon she wouldn’t need her booster seat. The time for a high chair was long gone, and she’d outgrown it so quickly, it had hardly been worth buying in the first place. By the time they’d gotten around to buying her toys, she was almost ready for children’s books. She adored the books she could “read” herself, like “Where’s Waldo?” When she was younger, she’d patted the bunny in the children’s classic so many times its fuzziness had disappeared.

         On special days, which only Lola and Castiel seemed to know about, Cas would remove the booster seat and sit on Lola’s chair, which was her cue to take a running leap into his lap. Today was one of those days. Cas reached around Lola and cut up her pancakes with a small, sharp knife he kept in his pocket. Lola covered her eyes and waited till he was done before guessing the shape of the pancake pieces.

         “That’s an easy one,” she said, slightly disappointed. “Stars.”

         “Look harder,” said Castiel.

         Lola nearly stuck her face in the bowl, studied the stars, and suddenly shouted “Faces! The stars have faces! Oh, thank you, God-Daddy. These are almost too cute to eat.” Which didn’t stop her from drowning them in maple syrup, which indeed looked like maple syrup soup. While Dean and Sam ate their pancakes with forks, Lola used a huge soup spoon to shovel her pancake soup into her mouth. A lot of maple syrup ended up on her chin, though Castiel was careful to hold back her shoulder-length red curls to avoid dipping them into the bowl of syrup soup.

         “Want to take a walk after breakfast, Lola?” Dean asked.

         “Can we take the stroller, Daddy, in case I get tired?”

         “Only if you give me a ride in it,” said Dean, smiling.

         “Silly Daddy.” Lola’s face was full of a messy, syrupy smile.

         “Do you want a ride, too, God-Daddy” Lola asked over her shoulder.

         “Not today,” Castiel answered. “I think I’ll just sit on the couch and read while you’re out. Today’s a special walk. Just you and  Daddy.”

         “But I want God-Daddy to come, too,” said Lola, her voice slightly shaky, as if she were going to cry. “Oops,” said Castiel. “Didn’t you brush your hair this morning?” he asked Lola.

         “Of course,” she answered.

         “Then how did this get in there?” Cas asked, pulling out a huge, intentionally over-cooked star he’d made the night before. Lola couldn’t see, but Castiel was gracing her with one of his rare smiles.

         “Ooh,” Lola said, taking the star and studying it. “How did it get so hard?” she asked.

         “Guess it stayed in the star-maker in the sky just a little bit too long,” said Cas.

         “There’s really a star-maker in the sky?” asked Lola.

         “Yes,” answered Castiel, “of course. Where else would the stars come from? God’s pocket?”

         Lola laughed. “God doesn’t have pockets, silly,” she told Castiel. “God is everywhere and nowhere, like you said, right, God-Daddy?”

         “Yes. But pockets are everywhere and nowhere too,” answered Cas.

         “Oh. So my dress has nowhere pockets?” asked Lola.

         “Exactly,” said Castiel. “And Daddy and Uncle Sammy and I have everywhere pockets.”

         Suddenly Dean swept Lola off Castiel’s lap and sat her down on his shoulders, grabbing her legs to keep her steady. He spun her around the room as she laughed with abandon. “What are you doing, Daddy?”

         “Aren’t we going for a dance this morning?” Dean asked, perfectly straight-faced.

         “Silly Daddy,” smiled Lola, “We’re going for a walk, not a dance.”

         “Oh, a walk,” said Dean, putting Lola down on the floor. “Right. Ok then, sweetie. Go to the bathroom and get ready, and I’ll fix us a snack.”

         Sam smiled. “You’ve got yourself a really good one, bro.”

         Dean smiled back. “I know.”

         About fifteen minutes later, Dean and Lola were finally ready to go. “Bye, Uncle Sammy. Bye God-Daddy.”

         “When are you coming home?” Cas asked Dean.

         “Couple hours,” Dean said, staring Cas in the eye. “Ok with you?” he asked, suddenly serious, as if he momentarily saw the situation from Castiel’s point of view. “You’ll be here, right?”

         “Almost,” Castiel said. “I think Sammy and I will clean up and sit in the living room.”

         Dean looked over at Cas. “Love you,” he said, opening the door.

         “Love you too, Dean,” said Cas, staring into Dean’s eyes.

         “What about me?” asked Lola. “Do you love me too?”

         “Like the stars in the sky,” said Castiel.

         “Whadda ya think?” asked Dean, picking up Lola and tickling her.

         “Stop it!” yelled Lola, between laughs.

         “Tickle monster no understand ‘stop it.’” said Dean, pushing their paraphernalia out the door. “Tickle monster say ‘stop it’ means more tickle?” The two disappeared to the sound of Lola’s giggles and the stroller falling over, dropping everything Dean had packed all the way down the stairs. “Oops,” said Dean. He haphazardly shoved everything back onto the stroller and held the front door open for his daughter.

         “Oh no,” Lola said, tears welling up in her eyes. “God-Daddy’s star broke. Look.”

         The star had indeed broken into so many pieces it was unrecognizable.

         “That’s ok, sweetie,” Dean said, squatting on the sidewalk and giving his daughter a hug. “Now we have stardust.” Lola smiled.

=====

         After Sam and Castiel finished cleaning up, Castiel stood awkwardly, half blocking the doorway.

         “You standing sentinel over the kitchen?” asked Sam.

         “Oh. No,” Castiel said, moving aside. He followed Sam into the hall to the living room.

         “What’s up, Cas?” asked Sam. “You’re making me nervous.”

         “I don’t know how to answer that question,” said Castiel. “There are so many meanings for the word ‘up’. To which are you referring?”

         Sam smiled. “You’re quite the character, aren’t you?” he said.

         “Which character? I’m confused,” said Castiel.

         Sam laughed.

         “I don’t understand what’s so funny,” Castiel said. “Oh well. Can we hang up and talk for a while? There’s something I need to speak to you about.”

         Sam smiled. “I think you mean hang out and talk for a while. Sure.”

         They sat down in the living room.

         “Can you keep a secret, Sam?” Castiel asked, staring Sam in the eyes.

         “If I have to,” Sam answered. “I don’t like to, but I can if it’s really necessary.”

         “It’s really necessary. Can you keep a secret from Dean?” Cas replied.

         “I don’t know. It depends on the secret,” said Sam.

         “That is illogical,” Castiel responded. “How can I tell whether you will keep a secret from Dean if you can’t decide without hearing the secret first?”

         “Good point,” said Sam. “I’ve known you a long time, Castiel, and I’ve never heard you ask for anything trivial or unnecessary. So this is big, huh?”

         “Very big,” answered Castiel. “I hope you decide to help me, because the situation is only going to get worse. I’ve compared the pros and cons so many times I could recite them. I need to decide if I can trust Dean with certain very difficult information about Lola.”

         Sam inhaled loudly. “Ok, Cas. I promise I’ll keep your secret. So what are we talking about here?

         “When she’s very angry, Lola eyes change to black demon eyes.”

         “Whoa,” Sam interrupted. “When you say big, you really mean it.”

        “I used hypnosis to try to instill a deep block against black eyes,” Castiel continued. “I’ve also decided on a safe word. If Lola ever hears me say that word, she will immediately change her eyes back to normal. Lola’s a good subject, very open to suggestion. But I cannot guarantee this will work, especially if someone other than myself uses the word.

         “So far, I haven’t told Dean. I am fairly certain I could handle the situation, should it arise. But Dean has been a demon himself, and was part demon when Lola was conceived. Frankly, Sam, I’m afraid of how Dean will react when he finds out that Lola’s genetic makeup includes his own demon blood. I’d like Dean to have as much safe, unencumbered time with Lola as possible. However, my constant presence, and my unwillingness to leave Dean alone with his daughter, is becoming a serious problem in our relationship.

         “Eventually, when Lola is older, we can make sure she always wears dark sunglasses, even on overcast days and at night. I’ve been researching, and there are many illnesses that can cause photosensitivity and photophobia. I will try to explain to Lola that in this situation, lying about an illness is the best choice. However, although Lola is extremely precocious, I don’t think she’s old enough yet to bear such a burden. I can’t ask a child to swear to constant diligence.

         “I let Dean take a walk alone with Lola today because Dean is reaching the limits of his anger at me. I’m afraid he’s going to conclude that I don’t trust him to be alone with his own daughter. I love Lola, but my heart is developing fault lines. If I lose Dean, my heart will shatter completely. If he finds out about Lola by accident and learns I’ve withheld this information from him, I honestly don’t know what he might do.

         “This is a very real fear. If Lola becomes angry enough, I’m not completely convinced that my precautions would work. I’m very worried about Dean’s emotions, but I’m more concerned for Lola’s life. If she shows her black eyes outside this apartment, any hunter or angel would feel perfectly justified in killing her on the spot.

         “Also, this is far less important, but I am miserable, frightened, and baffled, as well as very lonely. Dean and I are together almost all the time, yet I miss him terribly. I’m an angel. As hard as I try to understand, some human emotions are beyond my comprehension. You are not only human, but Dean’s brother. You seem the ideal person to turn to for advice. What should I do, Sam?”

         Sam took a deep breath. “Well, Cas, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

         “I don’t understand how beating a bush has any relevance to this dilemma. Besides, there are no bushes here,” Castiel answered.

         “It’s just an expression, Cas,” Sam explained. “It means you go straight to the heart of the matter."

         “Is that wrong?” Cas asked, looking both puzzled and totally drained.

         “It’s irrelevant,” Sam replied. “This is a huge amount of information to digest. Usually it drives me crazy, but right now, I could do with some of Dean’s tendency toward being terse.”

         “I apologize,” Castiel immediately responded. “I didn’t intend to overwhelm or upset you. Maybe we should forget this conversation ever took place. If you like, I could use hypnosis to help you forget.”

         Sam sighed again. “Just because this is hard doesn’t mean I want to forget about it. Dean is my brother, Lola’s my niece, and you’re, well, more or less my brother-in-law. What I’m getting at is that this is a family issue. Ideally all three of us adults would come to a consensus, but I can definitely understand why you haven’t told Dean yet. Every day you wait is both harder and easier on him. And on you.

         “I just don’t know, Cas,” Sam said. “I can definitely keep your secret. No worries on that account. But I’m gonna have to think for a while to try to come up with any ideas that might help. I had no idea about Lola.” Sam sighed again. College and hunting had been much simpler than raising a family. “I’m glad you told me, Cas. It’s a mess, but it’s a family mess. I think we’re going to have to talk to Dean pretty soon, but it should be easier with both of us than just you and Dean.

         “Gimme some time to mull this over, and I’ll tell you what I come up with.”  Sam paused. “One more thing, Cas.”

         “Yes?”

         “I’m really sorry you have to shoulder all this on your own.”

         “I’m not,” replied Castiel. “Families by nature are both joyful and extremely difficult. It isn’t always easy to be alone, either. This is the first family I’ve belonged to for a very long time. I was very lonely when I loved only my Father and brethren. My Father has been gone for so long he might as well be dead, and my brothers and sisters are not always easy to deal with. I thought I was part of a large family, and that we shared love for each other. Now, I’m not so sure. I don’t think I fully understood what it meant to love and be loved until I met you and Dean. And of course it’s impossible not to love Lola, whatever difficulties she may present.”

         Castiel leaned forward on the couch, rested his elbows on his thighs, and buried his head in his hands.

         “You ok, Cas?” Sam asked. “We’ll work it out. I’m sure of it.”

         ‘I know.” Castiel ran his fingers through his hair, and massaged his temples. “I just hadn’t realized how exhausted I was until I talked to you. Is it all right if I lie down on the couch and try to relax for a while?”

         “Sure,” Sam responded. “I get migraines. I’ve got an eye pillow I can heat up in the microwave for you if you like. It’s full of herbs that are supposed to help with migraines, and it’s very relaxing. Makes it easy to block out the world. Actually, it usually puts me to sleep. I don’t know how angels function without sleep.”

         “I used to feel irritated at humans for wasting so much time sleeping. Even when I was human myself, I didn’t sleep much and never dreamed. I’ve got to say, though, that I’m beginning to see the appeal. Although it’s not pure escape, is it? I gather that dreams and nightmares are not exactly relaxing.

         “You know, you’re so much easier to talk to than Dean,” Cas said as Sam started to walk to the kitchen to prepare the eye pillow. “You don’t swear and yell at me, or expect me to automatically know what you’re thinking and feeling. I have such a hard time understanding human love. Logically, I should be in love with you, rather than Dean. But it doesn’t work that way, does it?” Cas chuckled, which was very rare. “Dean fills an empty space in me I never noticed until it was full.”

         Sam laughed. “Believe me, Cas, romance between humans is no piece of cake, either.”

         Castiel wondered what cake had to do with love, but he kept quiet and waited for Sam to prepare the eye pillow. When he returned, Sam was carrying a warm rectangular pillow that smelled of herbs. Cas laid it over his eyes and let out a loud “Ahhhhh.” Sam was already sitting at the table, working on his laptop. So Castiel kept to himself the wonder that a heated pillow filled with herbs could feel as good as being healed by another angel.

        


	18. Jingle Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on as usual for the Winchesters.
> 
> Lola falls in love with reading and much time is spent in the library as she whizzes through YA and approaches reading adult books. She was born in April, and by December she looks like a three-or-four year old. She generally thinks as an extremely intelligent, precocious kid. Sometimes she thinks like a genius.
> 
> Even Dean realizes that Lola has surpassed the limits of his literary knowledge, and tells her to ask Castiel or Sam.
> 
> Dean decides to take the family to the mall to see Santa Claus.
> 
> Once they have entered the mall, Sam and Dean feel that something is not quite right.
> 
> They have no idea how "not quite right" their experience at the mall will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this chapter on and off for a while now. Every time I try to edit, it gets bigger, not smaller as it should. Also, Microsoft and I had a show-down at the OK Corral.
> 
> I mention this because you might find more typos and discrepancies than usual. After my boxing match with Microsoft Word, I just could not bring myself to edit this chapter yet again. Please comment on grammatical and continuity errors if you come across any.
> 
> Short story: For reasons both in and beyond my control, this chapter took forever. I can't stand the sight of it anymore, so you all get a cliffhanger instead of the intended conclusion of this chapter.
> 
> Sorry! If my husband were not a genius software developer, I might be sitting and cursing right now. Kudos to Dave!

**Oh jingle bells, jingle bells**   
**Jingle all the way**   
**Oh what fun it is to ride**   
**In a one horse open sleigh**   
**jingle bell, jingle bells**   
**Jingle all the way**   
**Oh what fun it is to ride**   
**In a one horse open sleigh**

**- by James Lord Pierpont  
**

 

The next few months were surprisingly mundane, for the Winchesters. Lola continued her weed-like growth, and by Christmas she was the size of a three-year-old. Her toddler fat had stretched into skinny, elongated arms and legs. What the Winchester adults noticed most were that her mental abilities challenged the adults she lived with. She’d already surpassed Dean; occasionally she even confounded Sam or Castiel.

         Fortunately, her demon eyes had not made another appearance. Castiel felt cautiously optimistic. Maybe he’d witnessed a fluke, or a baby checking out her body. He’d seen babies stare at their own hands, wondering what they were, with no idea the hands were part of them. Maybe she had been at the same developmental stage, but with demon eyes.

         Still, Castiel drove Sam crazy almost every day asking if he’d done the right thing by not mentioning the incident to Dean, or if this was the right time to tell him. Sam had finally told him to quit bothering him or he’d tell Dean himself.

         “No!” said Castiel. “This is a very sensitive subject. If we do approach Dean with the truth, we have to do so very carefully.”

         “Jerk,” said Sam.

         “Bitch,” said Cas confidently, proud to feel accepted as part of the family.

         Castiel and Lola were quite happy staying at Sam’s apartment, and Sam seemed fine with the situation. Dean knew they couldn’t impose on his brother forever. He was still waiting for the right time.

         Cas hadn’t taken Lola to Heaven yet. He imagined if he brought up the topic, he would start a family argument the size of Nebraska. He decided to wait for the perfect time, although he knew that perfect times have a tendency to be elusive, if not altogether non-existent.

         Lola barely noticed the passage of time; she had discovered the joys of Young Adult books. Thus Dean made more trips to the library in the past few months than he had in his entire life. Castiel always joined them. Lola quickly learned that Daddy was good for hugging if a book really upset her, but useless for answering her questions. He’d always tell her to ask her uncle Sammy or her God-daddy.

         Castiel knew everything about everything, but had a way of answering Lola’s questions by telling her that that’s what the library was for, and she’d learn more if she found the answer on her own.  Sam usually stayed home absorbed in research on his laptop, but he occasionally made the time to come with. Lola loved the times that Sam came along. He was the best for answering questions. He always responded directly, and kept his opinions to himself.

         One day Lola approached Castiel in the library with a shaky voice. “I finished all the Young Adult books,” she said. “Are there books written by Old Adults?”

         Dean chuckled. “They’re called Adult books. In the library, that is. You don’t want to search Adult books for your Kindle.”

         “Thank you for clearing that up, Dean,” Castiel said sarcastically. “Look around you, Lola” Castiel said. “What do you see?”

         “Books. So many books! How come I never noticed these before?” she asked.

         “’Cause you had your little nose buried in the Young Adults section,” Sam responded, giving her nose a tweak.

         Lola asked if there was any particular order she should follow in her reading. Dean, not a great reader except for porn, and the occasional non- pornographic magazine bought by mistake, told her to ask Sam or Castiel.

         Sam jumped in and said all books are written differently, so choosing an order didn’t matter. He suggested starting with the A’s and continuing on to Z.

          Lola laughed as she said there couldn’t be any books starting with Z. Castiel reeled off some titles: Zorro, The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Lola couldn’t wait to read the Zombies book. She ran off in search of adult fiction filed under Z.

         An ominous sound came from the stairway, followed by a very angry Lola.

         “You guys never told me about the Dewey Decimal system! There’s  a big sign about it upstairs. There are two whole floors full of books that describe how the world really is. I love novels,” Lola said, “ But the books about real life sound really cool”.

         “Aha! You’ve discovered the non-fiction section. Books about the real world. Or that purport to be about the real world,” Castiel responded. He’d felt the same joy when he discovered that humans had written slews of books about how they thought the “real world” worked.

         “But I don’t know the Dewey Decimal system!” Lola cried out, on the verge of tears. She was a very logical person and became very anxious when she couldn’t figure something out. At times it was hard to remember she was still a child.

         “Well, since you’re going to start fiction at Z,” said Sam. “I suggest you start with the zeros in the non-fiction section.”

         “There are zeroes in the Dewey Decimal system?!” Lola ran off to find them, and returned triumphantly with a stack of books so high she could barely manage not to drop it.

         “Lola,” Dean said, taking the books from her. “Hurry up and check out your books,” he added, while handing his library card to the librarian. Dean had never previously required a library card. But he was proud as hell to own a family card for Lola’s use.

         “Enough library for today,” Dean said. “I want to drive to the mall and test out a theory. I’ve heard tell that Santa Claus shows up at malls around this time of year.” Dean frowned, thinking of some homeless guy paid by the hour to wear a Santa suit and smile while a bored photographer took a shot of Santa with a kid on his lap. Dean was particularly concerned about Lola sitting on a stranger’s lap. He never felt Lola was safe around strangers. He couldn’t stand strangers even looking at his daughter, let alone holding her on their laps.

         “Hey, frowny face. Who knows? There might even be books at the mall,” Dean said conspiratorially. “Sammy, you coming? Or are you still afraid of Santa Claus?”

         “You were afraid of Santa Claus?” asked Lola.

         “I’ve gotten over my Santaphobia ages ago,” Sam snapped at Dean, “as you well know.” He turned and looked over his shoulder at Lola, no small feat for a tall man in a small car. “Don’t worry,” he said to Lola. “Santa’s kind and generous. There’s no reason to be scared of Santa,” She thought Uncle Sammy must have had a reason, but just as she was going to ask, her daddy cut in.

         “If we’re going anywhere, we better get a move on. Don’t want to miss Santa altogether, do we?” Dean responded, trying not to laugh.

         “Oh no! We might miss Santa?” asked Lola. “I’ve been thinking about him lately, and I’d love to find out the truth about Santa Claus. Some books say he’s real, others just a symbol, and most of them ignore quantum mechanics altogether and say that the same Santa Claus is in thousands of places at the same time. That makes no sense,” Lola declared. “How can the same person be all over the world at the same time? It’s very confusing.” She began to sing in a high, clear voice:

         Onward Santa Soldier,

        Be you knight or knave

         The truth is waiting for us,

         And I shan’t be a slave,”

         “Um, that is, I won’t be a slave for Santa. I don’t believe in slavery. And, ok, so the last line isn’t really related to the other three, but I couldn’t think of anything else on the spur of the moment.”

         All three men stared at Lola.

         “Did I do something wrong?” she asked nervously.

         “No, honey, you did something very amazing and beautiful,” said Castiel. “Tell me. How did you learn about quantum mechanics in the Young Adult fiction section?” he asked, almost as an afterthought.

         “Sometimes people put books back in the wrong section. And, um, sometimes librarians leave carts of books to be shelved and there’s nothing wrong with reading one of them, is there?” Lola was truly nervous.

         “Nothing at all,” said Cas.

         “Actually, now that I’m not afraid of  Santa,” Sam said. “I’m looking forward to finding out the truth about him,” said Sam.

         Dean smiled at him, a real smile, full of love. “Thanks, bro.”

         “Angels don’t believe in Santa Claus,” added Castiel, “however, I am always interested in a new point of view.”

         “Well,” said Dean. “If we’re going anywhere, we better get a move on. Don’t want to miss Santa, do we? I’d hate to miss him. We’d  have to wait till next year.”

         “No!” cried Lola. “Drive faster!”

         “Don’t worry,” said Sam. “Dean was just goofing with you. Santa will be there all day.”

         “Really?” said Lola. “I’d hate to miss him.”

         “I’m sorry, Lola. Uncle Sammy was right. I shouldn’t joke about something so important. Daddy promises we’ll be there in plenty of time. Santa doesn’t have to be anywhere else till tonight. And look. We’re here.”

         The three of cheered, with no idea of the absolute chaos laying in wait.

        

 

         The first sign that this was not going to be a piece of cake was when Dean had circled the parking lot three or four times and just missed about ten parking spaces. It didn’t help that Lola kept yelling “Daddy! There’s a spot!” and he’d slam on the brakes just in time to see a tiny car pull out, hidden by a huge van. “Daddy, hurry up and pull in,” Lola dictated.

         “Cars are waiting in line for that spot,” said Dean, sounding annoyed.

         “Oh. Sorry. I think there’s a space in that row, see?”

         Dean saw the space as well, and also saw a car pulling in.       

         “Oops,” said Lola in a cheery tone. She was thrilled to have a real Santa to answer her questions. She even wrote them down on a pad of paper, She looked for it to add “why do so many people come see Santa’” when she realized she’d left the pad on the kitchen table.

         “Daddy, I left my notes at home. Can we go back and get them?”

         “No.” Dean’s voice was non negotiable.

         “Well, I guess it doesn’t really doesn’t matter,” Lola said very quietly, dejected.

         “Don’t worry,” Castiel said. “I saw that list. I’m not sure Santa will have time to answer all those questions anyway.  Just clear your mind and the most important questions will float to the top.”

         “I love you, God-Daddy,” Lola said, evoking one of Castiel’s rare true smiles.

         “Listen,” said Dean. “It’s gonna take forever for me to find a space. Why don’t I just drop the three of you out front and I’ll walk back through the parking lot.”

         “No, I want to stay with Daddy” Lola whined.

         Suddenly a space right in front of the mall appeared. There was no line of cars ahead of Dean. He pulled in, a little faster than he should have, and heaved a sigh of relief. Aside from the handicapped spots, he couldn’t have parked any closer to the mall.

         “That was lucky,” said Dean.

         “I don’t know that it was luck,” Sam replied.

         “Cas?” Dean asked, amazed. Did you make this parking spot?”

         “Maybe,” said Castiel.

         Dean leaned over the driver’s seat, took off his seatbelt, and looked at Castiel. He carefully bent over Lola and pushed his head as far front as he could manage through the space between the two front seats. Dean used his right arm to grab Cas’s face and pull it toward him.

         “Ouch!” shouted a surprised Castiel.

         Dean and Cas each said “sorry” at the same moment. Lola giggled.

         Castiel shifted into a more comfortable position. “You ok, Lola? Am I hurting you?”

         He was, a little bit, but she kept it to herself and said “Nope. I’m fine.”

         Dean turned his head further, pulled a muscle in his neck, and forced himself to keep quiet. He very gently put his hand on the back of Castiel’s neck, and gave him what was intended as quick kiss. Castiel’s tongue found Dean’s, and they kissed more and more passionately.  Dean realized it had been quite a while since they’d had the chance for closeness. He realized how very much he’d missed Castiel’s touch.

         “Get a room,” said Sam, only half joking. “There’s not much space here for me and Lola, he said, emphasizing the word Lola.”

         “I love you,” Dean said to Cas, ending the kiss and moving back into driving position.

         “I love you too, Dean,” Cas replied.

         “Ok. Everyone out of the one-horse open sleigh” Dean said, a bit too loudly.

         “Daddy it’s a car, not a horse sleigh,”

         “It’s a vehicle. It got us here, said Dean. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to go find Santa Claus,” he said to Lola.

         “Let’s go!” she said, climbing over Cas to get to the door. She opened it and started to get out, but Cas immediately yanked her back painfully into the car. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

         “What’s wrong?” Castiel shouted. “What’s wrong is that you just missed getting run over by that car,” he said, pointing to the van backing out of the parking space next to them.

         Dean let out a deep sigh, his hands shaking from illogically gripping the steering wheel, as though it would help keep his daughter safe.

         “Oh no,” said Lola, on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry. Thank you, God-Daddy.”

        “No kidding, man” Sam added.  “Thanks doesn’t cover it.”

         “Yeah. You’re amazing, Cas,” Dean said, a bit shaky from the segue of passionately kissing his man, to the angel saving his daughter’s life with less than moments to spare. “Now that that we’re finally here, let’s go get us some Santa. Safely,” he directed toward Lola.

         The five of them got out of the car slowly, as if they were all senior citizens. Cas grabbed Lola’s hand tightly; she wouldn’t be able to free herself if she tried. She didn’t try. She let Cas guide her slowly and safety through the mess of cars standing next to a No Standing sign.

         “How can a car stand? Its wheels are on the bottom,” asked Lola.

         “All part of the mystery of Christmas,” Castiel said, leaving everyone in a slightly better mood.

         “Ladies first,” Cas said as he watched Lola walk through the self-sliding door to the mall. He followed immediately. He didn’t let go of his vice grip on her hand, even though they were inside.

         “I’ve got a funny feeling about this,” whispered Sam into his brother’s ear.

         “Yeah, me too” Dean replied quietly.

         “Good thing we’ve got Cas,” added Sam in a barely audible voice.

         “Why? I mean, apart from the fact that I’m madly in love with him and always want him around.”

         “Don’t know why,” Sam said quietly. “I’ve just got a bad feeling about all this,” he continued as the automatic doors began to close and then open again for the crush of people waiting to get in.

         Sam had no idea how right he was.


	19. Sympathy for the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi. This chapter actually does not contain Lucifer. But it does have a short very violent scene resulting in the death of one minor character. If this will trigger you, please don't read the chapter. It does have a very happy and sweet ending, and all the major characters are still alive.
> 
> That said, what happens when you combine a long, odious queue in a mall to see Santa Claus, when two people with demon blood confront each other? Rainbows and sunshine? Not so much.
> 
> This is a "plottier" chapter than most, for me. Thus the warning. But remember. Keep an eye out for the happy ending. : )

**Sympathy for the Devil**

**Please allow me to introduce myself  
** **I’m a man of wealth and taste  
** **I’ve been around for a long, long year  
** **Stole many a man’s soul and faith  
** **And I was ‘round when Jesus Christ  
** **Had his moment of doubt and pain  
** **Made damn sure that Pilate  
** **Washed his hands and sealed his faith  
** **Pleased to meet you  
** **Hope you guess my name  
** **But what’s troubling you  
** **Is the nature of my game**

**- Jagger/Richards, The Rolling Stones**

**[note: Lucifer does not make an appearance in this chapter. I just thought the song seemed apt]**

         It was pretty easy to find Santa. Just follow the little kids road. In fact, they had to stop and push their way against traffic to stand the end of the queue. A recording of “Ho Ho Ho” as they approached Santa competed with the holiday muzak piped through the entire mall. After endless whining from Lola that she couldn’t see, Sam lifted an eyebrow at Dean and Castiel. They reluctantly allowed Sam to place Lola on his shoulders. Even so she could barely catch a glimpse of Santa, and Castiel hated to let go of the safety he provided by holding her hand.

         The families already on line seemed to think that the Winchesters were trying to sneak their way into the queue for a closer spot, even though that clearly was not the case. Sam figured that after standing in line for an hour or so listening to the cacophony and crying kids would bring out the worst in anyone. And to be fair, Dean did look like he wanted to punch someone out. Castiel looked more worried than he’d been in a very long time. He gazed pleadingly at Sam, who was happy to have a reason to put down Lola. She was much heavier than she looked. Sam didn’t realize that the reason Cas wanted Lola on the ground was because she’d made such an easy target on top of a six foot four inch tall man. Target for what, he wasn’t sure, but he knew it wasn’t good.

         The minute Lola’s feet touched the ground, Castiel grabbed her hand again. His grip was even stronger than before, actually painful. But Lola felt safe tethered to Castiel. She wasn’t sure what she was afraid of, but she’d never seen Daddy and God-Daddy so scared and nervous. She wanted to hide under God-Daddy’s trench coat.

         Dean, who had automatically fallen back to keep watch on Lola, was feeling more uneasy every minute. He muttered something under his breath and looked around for a reason to punch someone. Sam didn’t hear him, nor anyone else on line, but Castiel and Lola, with their preternatural hearing, picked up every word he said.

         “Why was it such a bad idea to come here?” asked Lola. “I don’t mind waiting on line, and the Wi-Fi here’s pretty good. I just downloaded a new book for the Kindle part of my iPhone, and it’s working fine.”

         “Lola, how did you get Wi-Fi in the mall?” asked Dean, with a slightly threatening undertone.

         “I’m sorry Daddy. It isn’t really stealing, is it? I just turned on my phone, saw all the wireless connections were locked, and looked at the Apple one. Cause I have an iPhone. I can’t help it if my fingers just typed the password. I didn’t even think about it.”

         Dean sighed. “It’s ok, sweetie. You’re right; you’re not really stealing. You paid for the Kindle book, right?”

         “Of course I did!” Lola said testily.

         “Keep it down, kids,” Castiel said as he continued to crush Lola’s hand. He let Dean catch up with them, and took his hand, too.

         “Don’t worry, Cas. I’m not about to steal anything while we’re waiting on this fucking interminable line,” Dean grumbled.

“That’s not what I meant, Dean, and you know it. Every instinct in my body says to get out of here now.”

         “I know. Me too.”

         “I don’t want to see Santa anymore. Can we leave now?” Lola pleaded.

         “No. Not after that nightmare parking lot and spending so much time on this fucking line already.” Lola’s looked shocked; Daddy never swore and this was the second time in a row. “No one is leaving till I see Santa. I mean, till Lola sees him.”

         “Till you see Santa? Interesting slip of the tongue. Is now really the time to be so stubborn?” Castiel asked Dean.

         “Fine. You want to leave, open your fucking wings and go. Or just disappear. Think those are better ideas?” Dean snapped at Cas.

         “Maybe. I want to leave more than anyone else. However I continue to feel it would be unwise to stand down.”

         “I’m scared. Can’t we please just leave?” Lola pleaded.

         Cas unwittingly dug his fingernails into Lola’s  palm. “You don’t need to be afraid,” he told Lola. “Just stay in line, keep moving, and we’ll be fine.”

         Dean and Lola didn’t t **hink they’d be fine at all, but neither of them said anything. Sam felt a bit lost, but he wasn’t about to challenge his brother and Castiel together.**

         Suddenly Santa was clearly visible.  “Hey Lolo, I can see Santa.”

         “Does he have a gun?” Lola asked, entirely serious.

         “Of course not. No matter what Dean and Cas have been telling you, Santa is just Santa, and he’s not armed.”

         As they approached, the dissonance of the Ho Ho Ho’s and the Christmas muzak became painful.

         “Lo,” said Dean, “I hope you enjoy meeting Santa today. Because we are **never** coming back here again. **Ever.** ”

         Lola looked terrified.

         “I do not think it’s a good idea to be here right now,” said Cas. “But I think it’s a worse idea to leave. Then there’s the consideration of whether I want to get hit upside the head by your father.”

         “Don’t be an ass, Cas. I’m not gonna hurt you. But I sure as hell am spooked by something,” Dean said. “Usually when that happens, I know why. Today, I have no idea.”

         Santa was very close now. There were only two or three families ahead of them. They blocked most of Santa and his surroundings as they excitedly took pictures from their cell phones of their exhausted, bleary eyed children sitting in Santa’s lap.

         “Daddy, can we please go home? Now? I don’t like Santa,” begged Lola. She was very nearly crying.

         “There’s no room get out of line here, baby. The exhibit’s too big. When the kids are finished with Santa, they leave by a different exit. I promise we’ll go straight home as soon as you come out of that exit. Hey Sam,” he called his brother, who was leading the posse. “Can you see how many kids are ahead of us?”

         “Yep,” Sam answered. “We’re next.”

         The Winchesters’ hearts fell.

         A little boy jumped off Santa’s lap, his face smeared with red from a candy cane. The ground was littered with plastic candy cane wrappers. He disappeared and came out a back door.

         Lola looked up at Dean and Castiel. “Do I have to?”

         “No!” cried Sam and Dean in unison. Now that they could see Santa, they all wanted to leave.

         “Ho Ho Ho little Lololo. What is it you say this side of the pond? American vernacular is so bloody boring; it keeps slipping my mind. Ah, yes. My _my_ how you’ve grown. By my calculations, you’ve yet to spend a year gracing us with your presence. Precocious little brat.”

         Dean tried to snatch Lola but Crowley was faster. One minute she was standing at the head of the line. The next second she was sitting on Crowley’s lap. “I do hope you’re potty trained. This suit was tailored especially for me in Europe, and it cost a fortune.”

         Dean and Sam tried to tackle him, and ended up squashed against a wall, their feet dangling above the ground. Trying to move was futile. It was as if huge invisible rubber bands kept snapping them back against the wall.

         The families up front screamed and tried to run away. Crowley immediately sent them to join Dean and Sam, like insects pinned to a wall.

         “You all look rather interesting, hanging from the wall in a little queue. Perhaps I should keep you there; add a piece of post-modern art to this dreary mall. Whoever designed it clearly had absolutely no sense of style whatsoever. Not even a smidgen of flair.”

         Most of the line couldn’t see what was happening, and grumbled loudly about what was taking so long.

         “Don’t tell me your very own personal guardian angel is afraid of yours truly?” Crowley asked Dean, who was still pinned to the wall.

         “Shut up, Crowley,” yelled Dean. Yet it was true; Castiel was nowhere in sight.

         “Such lovely red curls,” Crowley said, looking down at the top of Lolo’s head. Shame that your mother couldn’t wait to get rid of you,” Crowley said, grasping Lola so hard she could barely breathe. “Although I seriously doubt you remember Mommy Dearest.”

         “I remember everything,” Lola said in a menacing voice. Her eyes had turned black as coal.

         “Do you know where you get those absolutely stunning black eyes from?” Crowley said in a honey-coated voice. “Your very own demon Daddy!” he shouted. His own eyes were now black as well.

         “My Daddy is **not** a demon, you asshole!” shouted Lola.

         “Language, language. Remember, little mate,” Crowley retorted, “without me, you wouldn’t exist. It could be said you owe your very life to me, you odd little creature.”

         “I am not an odd little creature, Lola responded. “ **You** are a filthy, disgusting demon, _King of Hell_ ” yelled Lola. “Let me go!” She couldn’t try to send Crowley to the ceiling, because she was a prisoner in his lap, and she was pretty sure Crowley was more powerful. Instead, she focused her demon eyes and abilities on the display. Fake snowflakes and beautifully wrapped boxes of nothing went flying every which way. Lola sent a pile of candy canes straight into Crowley’s eyes.

         “Ow, you little bitch,” Crowley shouted. “The decline of old-fashioned common courtesy is truly appalling,” Crowley shouted at Dean, who was still dangling helplessly from the wall. “Would it kill you to teach your daughter some manners?”

         “Oh, I have manners alright,” said Lola. “Just like yours.” She spit an impressive amount of projectile saliva at Crowley’s already painful eyes. Crowley, obsessively vain, let go of her for a moment to wipe the spit off his face. Lola took advantage of the situation to run away, but not before she bit Crowley, in the balls, hard enough to draw blood “Oops,” she said. “There goes your expensive suit.”

         Lola’s mouth was covered with blood, her eyes were shining black and she had a huge grin on her face. She started to free her Daddy from the wall but it was hard work. She succeeded in getting his feet to touch the floor, where he stood stupidly and gaped at the little monster who was his daughter.

         “Jesus fucking Christ!” Crowley yelled, bent over in pain. “This is my reward for coming to visit the progeny of my experiment?” he squeezed out, his voice contorted with pain.

         “No, _this_ is your reward,” said Castiel as he suddenly appeared behind Crowely and thrust a sword into the demon’s back. Castiel’s aim was a bit off because Crowley was rolled up in a ball of pain. “Coward,” he spat, as he forced Crowley to stand up and face him. “Much better.” Castiel rammed the bloody blade into Crowley’s heart, giving it a few quick turns for good measure. Crowley fell on his back as a thick cloud of black smoke emanated from his mouth. It looked as if he were spitting a long, narrow black tornado. This seemed to go on forever, until eventually there was none left. Crowley lay dead on the fake snow of the display. Castiel calmly removed his sword and freed the rest of the people still pinned to the wall.

         The next few minutes were total chaos. Sam grabbed Lola and held her to his chest, as if she were a baby. “Stop it, you fucking asshole,” she said, black eyes shining and her little body hitting and kicking. “Let me go!” she screamed. She punched Sam in the face, slipping away while Sam was trying not to swallow the blood pouring from his broken nose.

         Some of the people at the mall had heard of demons, some had seen them up close, lucky to have survived, and some had been blissfully ignorant until now. They all shared one common goal, which was to get out of the mall and drive away as fast as possible. They didn’t even notice they were knocking down and trampling people who’d fallen to the floor, as they raced toward the doors. The mob ignored the crunching sounds under their feet, only distantly aware that they were breaking the bones of their fellow human beings.

         “STOP!” yelled Castiel. Everyone stopped. “You disgust me. You are killing each other with your selfishness.” Suddenly the entire mob was outside, ashamed, looking for their cars. Castiel healed the crushed people on the floor. Fortunately there were no casualties.

         Meanwhile Dean stopped gaping and searched for his daughter. She was easy to spot. The demon blood in her had taken charge completely. She’d been fascinated by how Crowley had pinned her Daddy and Uncle Sammy, against all laws of gravity, halfway up a wall, feet dangling. She tried to do this herself, and was spectacularly successful. Entire families were pinned halfway up walls, screaming for help, as Lola laughed. Much easier to pin than to unpin, as she’d done helping to free her Daddy.

         Next she hit the stores. She’d seen her God-Daddy snap his fingers and make things happen, so she gave it a try. All the glass display windows near her shattered and fell. Lola laughed and ran down the hall to smash some more storefronts with a snap of her fingers.

         Suddenly someone gripped her arm painfully hard, almost as if it were being pulled out of its socket. “Stop. Now,” commanded her God-Daddy. Suddenly her demon blood seemed to totally depart. Lola looked around and felt very guilty about the damage she’d caused, especially to Uncle Sammy’s nose. Although she had no regrets about Crowley. Her eyes had changed back from black to normal without her noticing.

         “Can we fix it?” she asked Castiel.

         “No time.” Castiel could see mall security approaching from all sides. “Dean! Sam!” he called. “Come to me now!” Dean showed up and let Cas grab his hand, but Sam was nowhere to be seen. Cas shook his head, pointed two fingers toward the crowd, and Sam appeared next to Dean, blood gushing out of his clearly broken nose. Castiel could hear the sound of police cars approaching, most likely called in by the security guards.

         “Everyone hold on to some part of me. Do not let go,” Castiel said.  Seconds later, everyone but Cas way lying on their back on tall, fragrant grass. Cas was standing comfortably. He bent over Sam and touched two fingers to his forehead. His nose returned to its normal shape, and the blood disappeared.

         “Don’t try to move yet,” he told his family. “You’ll be sick. Wait until you feel well enough to stand.”

         The first to get up was Lola. She ran to Castiel and buried her face in his stomach. She cried so hard that Castiel’s shirt was soaked with her tears. “Shhh,” whispered Castiel, holding her tight. Dean got up next. He stood steady on his feet, but stared down at the ground and couldn’t bring himself to move.

         “Dean and Lola,” Cas said. “None of this was your fault. Please just relax and forgive yourself. I’ve already forgiven you. God has forgiven you, if  he still exists.”

         Sam rose last. He felt his nose, and asked where they were.

         “We’re in Heaven. My back yard, specifically. You may rest as long as you like. If you cannot sleep, I suggest you study the stars. They are extraordinarily beautiful here.”

         “Dean and I are going to bed. You are welcome to use the kitchen or bathroom if need be, but please don’t bother us.” Castiel stopped for a minute, squeezing Dean’s hand and watching Sam try to get his bearings. Lola was running around, rolling in the grass, climbing the trees, happily dissipating all that leftover energy.

         “Bless you all, Winchesters,” Castiel said under his breath. “I love you."

 

**The End**


End file.
